It Can't Be Happening
by JIBBSFOREVER in Paris
Summary: Jenny leaves two people behind who love her - but who don't know about each other. And why did she leave them? Will they believe what they were told? Will they pull together or pull apart in their search for the love that they lost?
1. Chapter 1

The pastor said something about peace. Kyrie wanted to shout that nothing about the situation described peace. The casket seemed to mock every word the minister said.

The whole funeral seemed like a blur, with so many people there who she didn't know. The only person that she saw who knew her was Ducky, his black bow tie and suit seeming to contradict everything she knew about her playful grandpa. She wanted to say hello, but the social worker wisked her away the minute the funeral finished. The cameras were everywhere, and in the public eye, she was still a secret. In fact, to other than three people, well two now that her mother wasn't here, no one knew she existed as Kyrie Shepard, the daughter of the NCIS director.

The social worker took her right away to the office where she would be assigned a foster family until her mother's will would be read and executed.

Kyrie didn't pay any attention to what was going on around her. She nodded as the social worker, named Debra, told her to have a seat in the waiting room while she went to do some paperwork. She sank down into the hard chair, and put her head in her hands. Tears streamed down her face, as they had since she found out her mother was dead. Her heart felt broken, and she knew there was no way to stop the aching in her soul.

The last time she had seen her mother was when they took a surprise trip to Paris after her mother showed up at her boarding school in London in the middle of the school day. Her mother had checked her out of classes for a week, and they spent the time in Paris shopping, eating at exotic restaurants, and just having the fun they always enjoyed when they were together. Emma remembered how her mother laughed when Kyrie told her a joke, her eyes had sparkled like a green gem in the sunlight; she remembered the mornings that they had stayed in bed for the morning, watching old movies and eating breakfast in bed, snuggling to make up for the time that they had been apart while she was in school. No matter how much she wanted to, Kyrie couldn't go back to those moments to make up for the time she was going to miss.

She felt a hand on her should, causing her to whip her crimson hair away from her face, and wipe her tear stained face as she sat up to find herself looking into the eyes of Ducky.

"Kyrie." He said, his accent twirling her name into a sweet sounding comfort.

She just looked at him, "I just want her back." He sat beside her, and put his hand on her knee.

Ducky had been in her life since she was a little baby. He was a family friend, and because her mother's father had died before Kyrie was born, Ducky had taken his role as a grandfather seriously. She knew that the last few years he had worked with her mother at NCIS, but to Kyrie, Dicky was a friend who had given her birthday gifts, took her to the movies once in a while, and had just been there while she grew up.

Ducky nodded, and said, "Me too." For him to say very few things made Kyrie realize that her mother's death had affected him quite hard.

They just sat there, taking a few minutes of comfort from each other. The social worked interrupted the silence. "Doctor Mallard, the paperwork is all in order."

Shaking out of his reverie, Ducky stood up, and spoke to the social worker. "Thank you very much. Is there anything else we need to do before we leave?"

Kyrie was confused. But she listened.

"No, until Tuesday Kyrie should be fine to stay with you until the will is read by a lawyer and her permanent guardian is contacted and informed."

"I'm going home with you, Ducky?"

The older gentleman smiled at her and said, "You'll have to put up with me for a few days, if you want."

Kyrie nodded, glad to be with someone she knew rather than complete strangers.

After loading her bag into his small car, they got into the car, which reminded her of the cars that they had in London where her school was. "Thanks Ducky." She said, and he looked at her with a smile. "I'm sure your plans for the weekend didn't include having a teenager stay with you. I appreciate it."

Ducky smiled a sad smile. "Oh, Kyrie. Always caring about others! I'm sure you're plan for the week didn't include going to a funeral for your mother. You're no inconvenience."

They drove off, Kyrie's whole life in limbo. And Ducky knew it would only get more confusing and tumultuous after the will was read.


	2. Deep Hurt

"I hope this room will be alright. It's been the guest bedroom for the last 20 years, and I know it's not stylish for a teenage girl."

Kyrie smiled at how much Ducky cared about her. "Thanks, Ducky. It's exactly what I need right now. A bed." She hadn't slept much since hearing that her mother was gone.

Ducky smiled. "Well then I'll leave you to get settled." He set her bag down by the bed, and as he moved to leave the room, he said, "If you need anything, just help yourself. There's food in the kitchen, and your room has a bathroom. I'll be down in the study if you need anything."

"Thanks." Kyrie said, glad when the door closed that no one could see how her face was overwhelmed with tears. She curled up on top of the comforter, pulling her knees to her chest while she cried. Her mother was gone. She was never coming back. Kyrie fell asleep crying, the face of her mother beckoning her into her dream world.

Outside, Ducky leaned against the wall, hearing the sobs coming from his guest room. His heart broke even more listening to the anguish that the beautiful girl was suffering. He waited to make sure she soon fell asleep, not wanting to leave her alone in case she needed someone. But once she fell asleep, he walked slowly down the antique staircase into the study. Sitting down in a chair, he just sat there, aware of how much everything had changed. It seemed like just yesterday, Gibbs and Jenny had been arguing, as always. And the bloodwork Ducky had run for Jenny, the results throwing them completely for a loop.

He jumped as he felt his phone in his pocket ring. "Doctor Mallard." He answered.

"We got a body, Duck."

There was only one person who called him that.

"Jethro, I have a houseguest." He paused. "Can't Palmer take care of it?"

The silence on the other end of the phone was his answer.

Ducky said, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

He ended the call, but immediately called another number. "Ziva, I have a favor to ask."

The light from the windows pulled Kyrie out of her dream, and she wondered for just a minute where she was. The lace curtains, flowery wallpaper, and antique decorations on the hardwood furniture reminded her that she was in Ducky's house. She wondered just how long she had been asleep, because she hadn't moved a muscle since falling asleep. Stretching her sore muscles, she sat up, her face still wet with tears.

Reality hit her again.

Her mother was dead.

Like a knife to the heart, she gasped for breath. Would she ever get used to the fact that her mother wasn't here anymore? Would it ever get easier? Did she want it to get easier?

Kyrie sat down on the ground, her back against the bed. She pulled her bag over to her, and opened the zipper, revealing all her belongings that she had. A few clothes, the only clothes that weren't her school uniform. But in a small decorative box, a wooden box that Ducky had given her a few years ago for her birthday, she opened the box.

Her mother's face stared back at her. The beautiful red hair that matched Kyrie's. The green eyes that were such a beautiful color. The smile that held such joy.

Kyrie pulled the picture to her chest, wishing with everything in her being that her mother could console her, tell her everything was going to be ok.

They had been so close. Ever since she was little, her mother had been the best friend that every girl wished for. Without her father in the equation, her mother had meant everything to Kyrie. They had done everything together. When Kyrie was in elementary school in London, she had lived at home with her mother, and everyday they would talk about how school had gone over a couple of cookies and a cup of tea. On the weekends, they would always spend every minute together, and holidays were Kyrie's favorite, because they took trips to exotic places, such as Egypt, Greece, and, Kyrie's favorite, Paris.

And even when her mother took a job in D.C., they still made the best of the situation. The threat to Kyrie's safety because of her mother's job made it a fact that Kyrie had to go to boarding school in London, while her mother lived in the States. No one could know from her job that she had a daughter, because there would be so much about Kyrie's life that would change. Kyrie's mother had always worried about the people who could try to use Kyrie and hurt her. And Kyrie was alright with living in London, her home, as long as they could still do things together as mother and daughter. And her mother was true to her word. At least once a month, her mother would fly out to see her. Kyrie texted her mother all the time while she was in school, and she told her everything about what happened. Even though they hated being apart, they made the best of it, and Kyrie didn't feel slighted in the smallest way that her mother had left her in boarding school.

 _Kyrie thought back to the day she found out her mother had died. It had been a normal class day, sitting in Physics class listening to her professor explain something that at this present moment seemed so insignificant. As usual, Kyrie was scrolling through her phone instead of paying attention. But she gasped so loud in class that everyone turned to look at her including her professor, who stopped teaching. She had stood up, said she needed to leave, and fled the classroom. The news report she had found was a story about the director of NCIS death in her burning house. She dialed her mother's cell phone, but she got no answer. After dialing it multiple times, she called the next number she had memorized._

 _"_ _Ziva David."_

 _"_ _What happened?" Was all Kyrie could ask her._

Kyrie's memory ended as Ziva walked into the room at Ducky's house

"Are you ok?" The young agent asked the girl who was sitting on the floor.

Kyrie shook her head. "No." Ziva sank down next to the girl, and pulled her into her arms, and there they sat.

"I didn't think it would hurt so badly." Kyrie said.


	3. Ziva's Grief

As Ziva held the girl close, she tried to fight the tears that came to her eyes. Her heart broke as Kyrie's body shook with sobbing, wishing that she could take the pain away from this precious girl.

Ziva remembered Kyrie as a very bubbly little girl, always a happy smile gracing her face. The day she was born, it seemed as if Kyrie had a smile on her face, even though both Jenny and Ziva had known that was almost impossible. As a toddler, Kyrie was a talkative child, and could make anyone laugh – especially Jenny. When Ziva had visited Jenny in London, Kyrie was only six, but that hadn't stopped the child from introducing her friend, Ziva, to the entire town of London. They had spent the entire week that Ziva was with Jenny touring the sights in the big city, with a wonderfully energetic tour guide names Kyrie.

Jenny. She thought.

 _Ziva had been watching the red headed American women since she had come seeking asylum under Mossad protection. She watched as Jenny's stomach began to grow, the evidence of a life beginning inside of her. Ziva hadn't trusted her at first, for her arrival was so swift and so out of place. The woman had come, as a liaison from the American agency called NCIS, offering to help and work with Mossad in an attempt to have peace between the two agencies. But her father had told Ziva that there was more to the story. Apparently Jenny had been in a relationship with someone she had worked with, and became pregnant. Because relationships between coworkers were strictly forbidden between NCIS agents, the agency sent her away to have the baby and to hide the shame that Jenny's affair would bring to the agency._

 _Jenny looked to be so alone for the first few months that she lived with the agency. Being the only other woman on the Mossad compound, Ziva felt drawn to her, and they slowly began to talk more and more, about girl stuff, about the baby that was coming, about Jenny's fears about becoming a mother, about the sadness Jenny felt about leaving her lover behind. Before they knew it, they were inseparable. They had both been afraid when Jenny left to go out on a mission into the dessert just a few days before her due date, but the operation was an important one, and everyone assured her that everything would be fine and they would be back before dark. But Ziva remembers the fear Jenny's eyes held when the first contraction started, out in the middle of the dessert. The convoy left immediately, but Jenny's contractions were coming so quickly, and Jenny had gotten so pale. They arrived at the hospital only a few minutes after Ziva helped delivered a beautiful baby girl. Jenny was rushed to surgery immediately for a bleed that almost killed her. After she woke up from the surgery, Jenny had names the baby Kyrie – which came from the phrase Kyrie Eliason – which meant Lord have mercy. Jenny had been praying that whole delivery that someone would have mercy on her and her baby, thus the beautiful Hebrew name._

 _Jenny had left about a year later, to begin work in the London office, and Ziva had been so sad to see Jenny and Kyrie leave Israel, but Jenny had promised that nothing about their relationship would change. Jenny stuck to her promise, and over the years Jenny had vacationed in Israel with Kyrie, or paid for Ziva to come visit them in London, or travel with them to Paris. Even when Kyrie had been in the boarding school in London and Ziva had transferred to DC to work with Jenny, Ziva would still take a red eye to visit Kyrie for a weekend._

Ziva remembered finding Jenny's body. Her first thought had been for Kyrie, how would she tell her that her mother was dead? The mother and daughter had been best friends. They did everything together. Ziva knew that Kyrie would be so devastated. Kyrie's voice on the phone had sounded so scared, so afraid.

And her voice hadn't changed at all even after the funeral. Ziva wondered how this girl had made it through the funeral without breaking down in tears, but she had been brave, just as her mother would have been. There was so much about Kyrie that reminded Ziva of Jenny – her red hair was just the beginning. Her strong resolve that would not break down at all – if Kyrie set her mind to do something, there was no way that she wasn't going to succeed. Kyrie smile was the thing that was the most like her mother – her eyes sparkled, twinkled even when she was happy. And Kyrie's grief looked so much like her mother's grief had been back when Jenny had been mourning the loss of her relationship with Kyrie's father – whom Ziva had no idea who it was.

Ziva was pulled back into the present time when Kyrie asked, "Ziva, what's going to happen to me?"

The uncertainty in the girl's voice made Ziva sound more convinced than she really was, "I don't know, but I know you'll be safe. Your mother would have made sure you would be taken care of if anything happened to her.""

Ziva was proud when Kyrie agreed, "She always thought ahead."

Knowing that maybe Kyrie should try to sleep a little more, she suggested, "I'll stay here with you if you want to rest a little." When the girl agreed, Ziva helped her into the bed, under the covers. Kyrie's eyes were swollen from all the crying, and they fell closed within seconds of her head hitting the pillow. Ziva sat back down against the door this time, just watching the beautiful girl sleep, memories of Jenny flooding her mind, and she let herself grieve for a friend lost. A friend she hadn't protected. A friend whose little girl was never going to get over her mother's death. Ziva felt it was her fault, and nothing that ever happened would ever change her mind.


	4. Remembering

_We were in Paris. Mom wore her beautiful black dress, a soft sham over her shoulders to protect her from the cool night air. I had the dress we bought together earlier that day – a pretty pink, with a poofy lining, that bounced with each step I took with my pattened leather shoes. Mommy had taken us to a wonderful restaurant that overlooked the city, the Eifel tower creating the perfect place in the background. The tables were set with a china that demanded my perfect table manners. Mom had finished eating, I was finishing mine._

 _She smiled. "Are you having fun, darling?" I loved the way she smiled. It made me happy when she was happy._

 _I nodded. I was having so much fun. I loved being with my mom. She rubbed my back, her hands such a protecting symbol._

 _"_ _This is my favorite restaurant here in Paris." Mom said, looking around the dining area, then moving her eyes out to the wonderful view of the city._

 _I looked, and the lights began to flicker on as night began to take over the city. I asked, "Mommy, why is this your favorite restaurant? What about dinner on the boat last night? That was my favorite. I like eating on boats."_

 _"_ _I thought you liked that last night, Kyrie." She paused, a look of something I didn't understand overtaking her face – a look that said she was thinking of something important. Something that maybe made her sad._

 _"_ _Are you sad, mommy?" I asked, fearful that I had made her sad. I didn't want to ruin anything that mommy had made so much fun._

 _Mommy shook her head, and placed her hand on my head. "I was just remembering the last time I was here at this place."_

 _"_ _Were you sad then?"_

 _"_ _No, darling, I was very, very happy." A small smile crept to her face._

 _"_ _As happy as you are now with me?"_

 _She paused for a minute, and she looked right into my eyes before she said, "Nothing could make me more happy than when I'm with you, silly!" She softly tickled me, making me giggle. She pulled me into a hug, and I wrapped my arms around her._

 _"_ _I love you, Kyrie" She said._

 _Not to be outdone, I said, "I love you more."_

 _And she squeezed me just a little harder, and whispered into my ear, "I love you most."_


	5. The Lawyer's Cal

Driving. That was what he was doing. It had been only a few days after Jenny's death, and that was his therapy.

Well, actually working on cases was his way of escape.

He was driving to interview a suspect in the murder investigation of a petty officer stationed at Norfolk.

His mind was a million miles away.

She was dead.

Dead is dead

But Jen?

It hit him hard. They had fought so much. She had stuck her nose into places it shouldn't have been – she gave up the field work to become a politician. He had butted heads with her more times than he could remember.

But it hadn't always been that way. Training her had been one of the best things he had done. She had been so eager to learn, and working undercover for the first time, she had been estatic.

Of course, there was the sex. They had the sex. They were undercover as a married couple in the city of love. Of course they had sex. And he hadn't thought of it much more than that. There escapades into the city as a married undercover couple seemed only part of the operation in his eyes.

Until she left him.

Then he felt the void. He felt betrayed. He hadn't done anything wrong. It hadn't seemed to be that bad to him. So they slept together. She shouldn't have taken it personal.

It had been only until she came to NCIS as the director that he had seen her again. So many years had changed the two of them – she had become what she wanted to – the person on top. And his life had shaped him in so many different fashions that he knew he wasn't the same person that he was in Paris.

And now, he wasn't the same person. He feared he never would be the same person. And part of him missed that.

His cell phone rang. He flipped it open, "Gibbs." He answered, short and sweet.

"Mr. Gibbs, this is Hannah Crawford, Ms. Shepard's lawyer. I'm calling about her will."


	6. Steeling Herself

"So where are we meeting the lawyer?" Kyrie asked Ziva.

Ziva came behind the girl and helped her put on her necklace that had been giving her so much trouble for the past few minutes. "She said we were going to meet her at her office for the reading of the will."

Kyrie's hands shook as they smoothed down the sweater and skirt she was wearing. She noticed that Ziva saw her nervousness, as they looked at eachother in the mirror. "I don't know why I'm so nervous. It's not like it can get much worse than finding out your mother is dead." She said, and she saw that her callousness threw Ziva for a loop.

Kyrie turned around to face her friend who had a quiet black outfit on. She knew she should say something, but there wasn't much more she could think about saying. So she just smiled a sad smile.

Thankfully, a quiet knock came to the door, and Ducky walked into the room. "Oh, Kyrie, you look just beautiful. Just like your…" He paused, realizing his talent for making conversation might come across callous and uncaring. But he couldn't believe how much she looked just like her mother. Her red hair, the most obvious, hung down, past her shoulders to the middle of her back. The front was tucked quietly into a clip at the base of her neck. Her facial features, cheekbones, full lips, tall forehead – all reminded him of the woman who had been his director. Her classy brown sweater made the necklace with the star of David stand out, and her skirt came down just a hair past her knee, a quiet flat shoe finishing the ensemble.

Yes, Jenny had raised a modest, lovely daughter.

If only she was here to see how well she had done.

The only thing that didn't match her mother was the way her eyes looked. They were green, just like Jenny's, but they were full of sadness. Full of care, like she had the weight of the world on her.

"Thanks, Ducky." The girl said, her London British accent warming his ears, and she tried to make him feel better for his senseless comment. "It's a privledge to remind someone of my mother."

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Ziva interjected, "We should probably be going. We don't want to be late." Ducky agreed.

Kyrie paused, and asked, "Can you give me just a minute?" They both understood, and said they would be waiting downstairs for her when she was ready.

After they closed the door, she turned back to the mirror.

Time to calm yourself. You have to be strong. Tears threatened to crawl to her eyes, but she pushed them back, her willpower the only thing keeping them at bay. You cant be weak. She steeled her eyes to be resolved. Nothing would shake her up. Nothing would change her mind to be strong.

No matter what happened at the reading, she could not appear to be distraught. She didn't want to be the saddened loved one, the one that everyone pittied. Her body tensed at the thought of living with a stranger; her mother had never discussed her will with Kyrie. And there was no need to, because her mother would have everything taken care of. Right?

Oh she wanted to go back to school, back to some sense of normal. America had never been her home, and she missed her life back in England. Her friends, her school, her life.

But nothing would ever be the same again anyway, so what did it matter to her what happened. Again, no matter what happened she would be strong. Her mother would want her to be. Her mother would be strong. There was no one stronger to Kyrie than her mother. And she could make her mother proud. Right.

Right. She told herself. Her hands stopped shaking. One last look around the room that had been a place to stay for a few days, she picked up her small bag, and walked down to where the others were waiting.

A/N - Please please please review! Ive spent a lot thinking through this and would like to have some input! Thanks and love all my readers!


	7. Words from the Grave

Ziva was amazed at the resolve this 17 year old child showed. She knew that she was so broken up inside at the loss of her mother. But she looked like she could take on the world as she walked down those stairs, on the ride to the lawyer's office she didn't break down once, just looking out the window until they arrived. She walked in, and they found the room they needed to be in. Kyrie acted polite to the lawyer, shaking her hand when offered it, and sitting down to wait for the other few people who would be there to hear the reading of the will.

Ziva watched as many people she didn't know came in. Just about four or five of them were in the room when Ziva watched some people she knew walk in. In walked Gibbs. And Tony. And Mcgee. And Vance, the director since Jenny's funeral. From watching Kyrie's reaction, Ziva figured she didn't recognize them from the funeral, and she knew that Jenny hadn't talked about work at all with her daughter, so there was no way that she should know them.

After everyone had taken their seats, the lawyer began her speech, about how she was going to read through the will word for word, and the letter that Jenny had written to accompany the reading of the will. At the mention of Jenny's name, Ziva found herself and Ducky both looking to make sure that Kyrie was doing alright.

While the lawyer went about her speech still, Tony's face found Ziva's vision. Wrinkling his nose, raising his eyebrows, it what could only be called comical, he mouthed, "What are you doing here?"

Ignoring him, knowing it would make him even more curious, she turned her attention to watching Gibbs. He looked uncomfortable, standing at the back of the room. Arms crossed in front of him, his eyes taking everything in. Ziva knew he was scoping out the situation, but she knew there was nothing that could prepare him for what was going to happen.

The lawyer began to read the letter Jenny had wrote to go along with the will.

 _Dear Friends,_

 _Thank you for coming. I know there are those who would rather be somewhere else – trust me, I know how demanding work can be. They say that no man ever lay on his deathbed wishing he had spent more time at work. I'm not trying to disagree with the experts, but if any man did a job as important as those at NCIS, he might have wished to spend his last few minutes working._

Ziva laughed, along with the others from the agency, and she could almost hear Jenny's calloused humor.

 _With my will, I know there will be surprises: I was, after all, the director of a federal agency – what kind of political figure would I be without my own share of hidden secrets?_

Another laugh, a bit more solemn

 _Please don't hold my secrets against me. If anyone had told me that I would be the director of NCIS, I would have laughed in their face – and if anyone here knew me then, they would have laughed with me. Because my life was full of trials, as I am sure were others – that's what made me the person I became. Years ago, when I was a bright eyed new agent in what was then the NIS, I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life chasing criminals and becoming the hero I had always imagined. But life changes a person. Circumstances change, people come into your life, you make friends, you make enemies. To sum up a life in only a few sheets of paper does no justice to the person – for life is more than accomplishments or failures, more than the truth or secrets –_

 _more than life or death._

A/N - thanks for the reviews! Love you all!

I can't wait to burst your bubble here in just a few short paragraphs - I know how the typical JIBBS story goes, but I wanted to change it up a bit! Let me know what you think - again, thanks so much for reading - I really appreciate it!


	8. Gibbs View

Gibbs smiled along with the rest of them listening to the letter from Jenny – but at the end, he could almost see her face, saddened and burdened. The face from the last few months, her avoiding him, the deep look in the back of her mind all the time. That was the Jenny who wrote that letter. Not the Jenny he remembered.

But Jenny had plenty to be afraid of. So many things from her past that were about to change the lives of almost everyone in this room. Her secrecy from the last few months would be shown to all those around her – and Gibbs felt he was only getting a fraction of the story.

Vance – the new director of NCIS – sat down near the back. Gibbs watched him twirl the toothpick around in his mouth, thinking and hoping that her will wouldn't bring anything against the agency – Gibbs was sure that was all the power hungry director could be thinking of – himself.

Tony – slouched in his seat – tried to appear to be bored but inside he was imagining every eye on him every time anything about Jenny's death was referenced – Gibbs didn't know how he felt toward the young man. He had been the senior field agent on the protection detail, so he should have been there. But Jenny had a stubborn streak, and if she insisted on being alone, Gibbs could see where that would put Tony in a hard place. But Tony was going to have quite a bit of time to think about how he could have changed the situation – he would become Agent Afloat in ten days – and off at sea for who knows how long.

Mcgee – always the respectable agent, wore a suit and tie, hair combed over, sitting straight in his chair – the total opposite of the other male on the team. Gibbs smirked at the sight of his phone in his hand – always the tech – to the end, it looked like, and running a small group in the Cyber section of NCIS – or something like that, Gibbs couldn't remember exactly how all that tech stuff worked.

Ziva – held her head high – but was there ever a time where she didn't, Gibbs thought. Her hair was tied behind her in a simple bun. He hadn't seen her much since the funeral – she was heading back to Israel in less than three hours. Her eyes kept scanning the room, looking especially at one or two people in the front of the room. When her eyes jumped back towards him, they made eye contact. She just looked at him, her dark eyes masked with something Gibbs couldn't read – but she turned around quickly.

Of course, Abby, Ducky, and even Fornell were all there – and only a few others, some of whom were from Jenny's protection detail here in DC.

But there was one face Gibbs couldn't place. The girl toward the front, the one sitting by Ducky. All he could see from the back was her hair – red hair. It hung down past the back of the chair, lightly moving each time the girl repositioned herself. Gibbs felt like he should know her, but somehow, he didn't. He thought he knew all of the people that Jenny knew, but he guessed he had underestimated how much time outside of the office she had – but only one person in the whole room he didn't know – who was this girl – and why was she here?


	9. Taking or Leaving - or Both

Kyrie couldn't look around the room – if she took her thoughts from the lawyer, if she even thought about just how sad she really was, she knew she would break down. Hearing her mother's letter made her was to cry. How she missed her mother – oh it hurt to even think about it. And the letter was confusing for some, but not for her. She knew exactly what her mother had meant by "secrets" She remembered when her mother had told her about them three years ago

 _"_ _Kyrie?"_

 _I looked up from the book I was reading. "Yes, Mum?"_

 _She sat down on the living room chair right across from the couch I was laying on. "There's something I need to tell you about."_

 _I sat up from my reclining position; I could hear it in her tone of voice that it was important. There was something about how she looked, almost sad, but excited too. "What is it?" I asked._

 _She hesitated for a minute, her eyes unable to meet mine, but then got her courage up – at least that's what I thought happened. "I've been offered a promotion."_

 _"_ _Really? That's great." I said, wondering why she was so hesitant to tell me._

 _"_ _Well, kind of. The job is in the States – in Washington DC." She looked to see my reaction._

 _I was taken aback a bit, moving to a whole new country, even though it was a country that I had citizenship in, still that was a small think in the whole scheme of things. "Well, I guess we have to move." I said, trying to make light in the conversation. "Can't have a crazy commute back and forth like that every day!"_

 _Her face dropped, and she took a deep breath. "There's a problem though. They offered me the Director position at NCIS. I'll be the first woman director, not only of NCIS, but of any federal agency in the United States. It's the highest I can go in my field, something I never dreamed I could ever be able to do when I first started in the agency." I still didn't see the whole bad thing until she continued. "Because It is such a high profile position, there are many risks involved in safety and protection. SECNAV, the secretary of the navy, said that to bring a family into the picture with the threats that come with the job, he said that it would be wise if no one in the agency knew that I had a daughter."_

 _Her mother paused for breath, and she waited while the reality hit me. I couldn't go with her. Her eyes searched my face, looking for the shock of things to hit me. "Wait, that means I can't go with you." I said. Not as if I was confused._

 _Because I knew that this was what she had worked for her whole career. All the operations in Israel, Russia, Serbia, and countless other missions that she couldn't tell me about. All the time away from me, all the hours she spent working cases. All the time she brought home paperwork to do, just so she could be with me, even though she had to work. All the dark circles under her eyes after finally finishing a case after 73 hours of non-stop work. All the times she had talked about how she wanted to make a difference in the agency – all her opinions about how the agency should be run – all her plans to better the casework – this promotion, as the Director of NCIS, this was what she had been waiting for her whole life._

 _She was waiting for all hell to break loose – for me to start crying or yelling or stomping out – things normal kids would do if their parent told them they were moving and couldn't come with. When nothing came from me, she asked, "What are you thinking?"_

 _I smiled. And I just looked at her, my beautiful mother who had made so much of herself. And I said, "You should take it." Now she was the one to be confused. I continued. "I understand you wanting this job. It's everything you've worked for. So take it. I'm used to living here in London. The states could never be my home – I'm the most British American there is - at least that's what Ducky said when he was here last." Back to the task at hand. "You're gonna make an amazing Director. It's all you've ever dreamed of."_

 _Mum came over to the couch, and I scooted over and laid my head on her shoulder. "Kyrie, you are the most grown-up 14 year old I think I've ever known." She said, wrapping her arms around me. "But I have to ask. Are you sure? You aren't just saying this because you don't want to hurt my feelings?"_

 _I looked up at her, into her eyes, and said, "I mean it."_

 _She touched the tip of my nose with her finger, and said, "You were right about almost everything you said. But you said that this position was everything that I've ever dreamed of – but there is something more that I've dreamed of – being your mother. I love you so much, and you're everything I've ever dreamed of, Kyrie." And they snuggled together, just holding each other close as long as possible._


	10. What Everyone's Been Waiting For

Back in reality, Kyrie listened as the lawyer began to read the will.

 _"_ _To Tony, the investigator who has the need to speed, I leave you my red corvette." She could hear the man who must be Tony behind her._

"What? What? Wow. No way!"

She smiled, at just how much that had meant to him, and Kyrie had never known her mother had a corvette.

 _"_ _To Ducky, a friend who became more like family than a friend, I leave my London townhouse, along with the library that is included in that house."_

A small smile graced the man beside her, and Kyrie remembered him looking through all the books mother had in her study at the London house.

 _"_ _To Abby, the person whom I never would have seen to hold such a special place in my life, I leave 50% of the land holdings in my name, which total 10 different properties both in the country and abroad. I'm sure you will find a perfect way to benefit society using these."_

The girl got an excited look in her eye, and hugged the man in the suit she was sitting next to.

 _"_ _To Timothy McGee: You will find that although I've never been a technology person, I do have quite a few high quality pieces in a storage unit. I leave all of those to you."_

The man in the suit had a respectful look on his face, but a smile began to appear.

 _"_ _To Jethro: I leave you my DC townhouse."_

Kyrie saw that there were many who laughed, a little snicker. Her mother hadn't known that it would be in that house that she would meet her demise.

"And finally, to Ziva, my dearest friend who has been with me through the hardest part of my life, who invested her life into mine, _who cared for me when no one else did, I leave you my most prized possession. I leave you with the responsibility of caring for and cherishing the one part of my life that brought meaning to my life – the one part that I will leave behind and forget. I leave complete and utter guardianship of my daughter, Kyrie Jennifer Shepard._

The room erupted in chaos.


	11. Ziva's Astonishment

"Shall we call you Mother Ziva?" Tony jabbed. The whole team – well the whole ex team – had gathered after the reading. Ducky had taken Kyrie back to his house, knowing Ziva would need some time to think.

She was still in shock – that was the last thing she had ever thought would happen. She had thought something else would happen that would change everyone's life, she had known that there would be some confusion as people found out about Jenny's secret child. And there had been that.

But Ziva was still in shock – she couldn't take responsibility for a child. Sure, Kyrie was a responsible kid. Compared to other seventeen year olds, Kyrie was every bit as capable of taking care of herself as any other adult. Ziva had become a respectable person too – she had been working with NCIS for almost three years. She had a job, an apartment, a life. But she was a trained assassin – why would Jenny give her the responsibility for her daughter?

Ziva's headace increased in velocity as she remembered her plane ticket for the next morning out of the country. She Was headed back to Israel because her position at the agency had been terminated – according to Director Vance.

"Realizing that you're gonna probably kill your kid within the first few hours, are you David?" Tony again jabbed. To which Ziva, who had been trying to control herself, sucker punched him in the jaw, and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

McGee, Abby, and even Gibbs who was standing at a distance, all looked at her with eyes wide.

"What?" Ziva asked defensively, "I didn't kill him. Just rendered him unconscious."

Abby looked at Tony's form on the ground, and told McGee, "If I ever get on her bad side, please step in front of me, McGee." To which McGee sarcastically replied, "Thanks, Abbs."

McGee helped Tony up off the ground. Rubbing his jaw, he looked at Ziva, and said, "Well, I probably deserved that. I should be able to see you're under some stress." Ziva was thankful that he realized that he had overstepped his bounds, until he said, "You can beat up on me as long as you don't beat up on the kid."

Ziva lunged to finish him off, but Gibbs grabbed her arm. "Tony. Ziva. Cool it."

"Boss, did you know Director Shepard had a kid?" McGee asked.

Gibbs just shook his head.

"I think that was how she wanted it, McGoof." Tony added. "I mean if you had killers after you all the time, it makes sense that you wouldn't want your children in the way of that." He paused, a pensive look on his bruising face, "Look at how NCIS used Beniot's daughter against him."

Everyone looked at Tony.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Gibbs said. "Yep."

Tony loosened his tie, feeling very awkward. So he made another awkward comment, "Who did the Director do to get her daughter?"

Gibbs slap.

"Tony, I think it's time for us to leave." McGee hinted. "You can go get your car now."

Tony smiled at that, and said, "Lets get it, and I can drive it to the emergency room to get my broken jaw set."

Abby started to argue with him about it as she, McGee and Tony walked away. "If you're talking, your jaw isn't…"

Ziva stopped listening quite a while back, her mind going back and forth. Seeing Gibbs was still standing there, she asked him, "What am I going to do? I can't take her with me to Israel. It won't be safe there for her where I'm going. I can't just leave her here."

He looked at her, his blue eyes piercing her gaze, and said, "You're gonna read this." He handed her a letter with her name written on the envelope – written in Jenny's handwriting.

Ziva took the letter, and looked back a Gibbs. "Where did you get this?"

Gibbs did his little smile – and said, "The lawyer gave it to me before the proceeding."

"What? Why?" She asked, ripping open the letter – and she found out everything.


	12. Dear Ziva

Dearest Ziva,

My dear friend, I can't believe I'm writing this. It seems like just yesterday I met you, the crazed assassin everyone told me to stay away from – oh, how wrong they were. Who would have thought that same girl would soon be delivering my baby girl?

I know that you must be grieving, and you must be confused. I wanted to explain it all to you.

When I arrived at the Mossad compound, there was much more behind my story that I couldn't tell anyone about. My first station in Paris was memorable, to say the least. My partner and I were undercover as a married couple, vacationing in Paris. But our real mission was to isolate and terminate three known terrorists. Being undercover, we had to act the part – but we did much more than acting. Long story short, I soon found out that I was pregnant. I was so scared. What could be more humiliating – getting pregnant while on a mission, or getting pregnant with your boss's child? I was so young – I didn't know what to do. I kept it from my partner, knowing that we still had to finish our mission, but with a little less vigor. When we finished our operation, we both flew back to the states for our debriefing. At the airport, someone came to meet with my partner, and she turned out to be his wife.

I was devastated, every last shred of my dream to perhaps tell him about the baby and live happily ever after – those dreams were shattered. We were assigned one more mission in Serbia together, and I dreaded knowing he would want to continue the clandestine relationship we were having behind his wife's back. One day, I wrote him a letter telling him that I didn't want to talk to him anymore, that everything was over, and that nothing he could do would change the fact that he loved her more than he loved me. I left that note with him while we were traveling back – he was asleep on the plane when we landed back in the states – I said goodbye to him while he was sleeping, and I left, my heart shattering because I had really loved him. Knowing I couldn't imagine having an abortion, I immeditaly requested a tour overseas with a long time station in an isolated area. They contacted Mossad. Where the rumors started. Some of them were true, others not so true.

I took the job as Director because I thought that I had gotten over my hurt and feelings for him. And actually, when I saw him for the first time after all those years, the only thing I felt for him was anger for treating me like I was nothing but a fling to have while away from his wife. I thought that I would feel something for him, but I guess raising a child alone changes the heart.

I left Kyrie with you for only one reason – I want you to see whether her father deserves the right to know about his daughter. I can't have her heart broken like mine was if he decides that he doesn't want to be a father anymore. See if he is a trustworthy person who will give her the love and comfort she needs. I know that he would have no problem letting her live with him, and he might even think that he was doing his job as a father – but he can be brash and uncaring at times, and I don't want that for her – she's been through so much. Take a few weeks of her staying with him for a few days, or just having a few day trips with her father – but don't let her get attached. If he pulls away, she won't be able to handle it.

There is no one I trust more than you – and trusting anyone with my daughter means I really trust you. Please take care of her. Let her know that I love her. Don't let her heart get broken like mine was.

Thank you for being such a great friend; I was blessed to have known you.

Love, Jenny.

P.S Leroy Jethro Gibbs was with me in Paris


	13. The Confrontation

Ziva looked up from the letter, eyes wide as she looked at Gibbs.

"I can tell from the look on your face that I was right." He said turning away from her, running his hands through his hair.

Ziva was still speechless – Jenny had always been secretive when talking about Kyrie's father. But there had been so many times that Ziva should have guessed it.

Gibbs as a father? That was enough to make her head spin – not to mention that she was in charge of releasing his daughter to him.

Gibbs stood against the wall of the office, both hands on the wall, his eyes closed in what could only be contemplation. But the contemplation ended when he pounded both fists against the wall. "Damn it, Jen! How could you?" Loud and angry. But Ziva felt the same way, on a much smaller scale than what Gibbs was feeling.

He began to pace back and forth, the most agitated Ziva had seen him since her first day at the agency after Agent Todd had been killed. "How did I not know?" He yelled to himself.

Ziva interrupted his ranting. "She didn't even tell me about you. And I knew her and her daughter. I should have put the pieces together, but I didn't."

He looked at her for maybe a second, then returned to his ranting. "She should've told me the minute she found out. How could she hide my daughter from me for 17 years? No wonder she seemed so secretive the last few months." He turned to her, "Did she say why the hell she didn't tell me?"

 _Of all the people to have to tell him this, it would be her_ , she complained in her head before saying, "She said that you were married."

He rolled his eyes, "Stephanie." He paused for a minute, like he was remembering back to that day at the airport. "I should've seen that something changed that day."

The woman in Ziva couldn't hold back anymore. "You didn't put that together until now? You were sleeping with your partner, who had no idea you were married. You should've had some sense of embarrassment when Jenny found out you were married?" Her voice had now escalated to match his tone. "What did you think? You could just sleep with Jenny for months and she shouldn't feel anything when she finds out you had a wife back home?"

Now Gibbs anger began to cool. "I was such a hothead back then."

"Well that's a sorry excuse for stupidity 17 years ago." Ziva said, pushing her luck.

Gibbs anger was back, "But she still had no right to keep me from my daughter all these years. She had to wait until after she died to tell me her biggest secret. What a coward."

 _That was enough_. Ziva had enough. She walked over so she was standing just inches away from her boss's face, her eyes filled with an anger that Gibbs had never before seen. She spat out the words, slowly, for emphasis. "How. Dare. You." She said. "She was a mother and a father to that girl, because the biological father was such a 'hot-head' that he forgot to tell her that he was married when he was sleeping with her. You were the coward, not her."

He opened his mouth to say something, but she wasn't done. "You didn't see the nights she spent at the hospital after giving birth, fighting for her life. You weren't there to watch as Jenny's tired eyes came into the office after having flown all night to be with her daughter. You weren't there when Jenny's daughter almost died from pneumonia as a toddler. You. Weren't. There." She was yelling now, still in his face. "Don't you dare judge how she decided to pick up the pieces after you broke her."


	14. Secrets Revealed

Kyrie sat at the top of the stairs, leaning against the balcony post, listening to the conversation happening in the library downstairs.

"Ducky, my plane leaves in an hour. What am I going to do?" Ziva asked, sounding frantic. "Jenny gave me the responsibility, but she didn't think that our team would be split up after she died. What am I going to do?"

Kyrie only knew bits and pieces about the conversation. She knew from the reading of the will that Ziva was her new guardian, and Ziva was supposed to be in Israel at the end of the day. Kyrie was relieved that she was to be with Ziva as her guardian, but she also felt bad that it was causing so much trouble with her friends.

Ducky said, "Can you change your flight? Maybe stay here and settle things down before you leave?" He suggested.

Ziva's voice sounded muffled, like her head was buried in her hands. "I have ten days left on my visa before it expires. But even if I stayed until that expired, how will ten days change anything? He doesn't even know the half of it, but he's already pissed with me. What's gonna happen when he finds out the stipulations?"

There was a pause, Kyrie assumed they were both baffled. She had no idea who they were talking about, but the way they sounded, they knew him very well, and her mother must have known him too.

"He's going to need to get over his anger if he wants to see his daughter, right? You just have to be strong. Maybe it will only take a few days. If not, you could send her back to boarding school and he could visit until everything sorts itself out – if you have to leave the states before you're sure everything will be fine with them?"

Kyrie couldn't believe it. There were talking about her father.

Mum had never talked about her father, and Kyrie hadn't really inquired much. Every time she did, her mother got a sad look on her face, and Kyrie hated hurting her mother, so she just stopped asking. And she really hadn't wondered much about him – she had been a happy child with a mother that loved her, so why would she need to look for him?

But since her mother's death, there had been a giant question in her mind about her other parent. Was he alive? Was he a good person? Would he like her?

But apparently, Ducky and Ziva knew who her father was, and from what she could tell, she might get to meet him soon. Maybe.

But maybe not. "Ducky, the way he talked to me today, there's a lot of anger on his part about Jenny leaving him out of Kyrie's life. I don't think now is a good time for her to be around him; what if those feelings surface and he accidentally hurts her because of how Jenny hurt him?"

She just had to meet her father. Even if he wasn't the perfect person. She had to know what he was like. He was her only family left. She pounded down the stairs into the library, surprising both Ducky and Ziva.

"I want to meet him. I want to meet my father." She said before giving them a chance to change the subject.

Ziva looked at Ducky, then back to Kyrie before she said, "I thought you were asleep?" Kyrie shook her head.

Ducky asked, "Did you hear the whole conversation?"

"Yes. I did." Kyrie admitted, not a hint of remorse in her voice. "You can't keep me away from my father."

Ziva put her head back into her hands, and let out a deep breath. "This can't get much worse, Ducky."

Ducky walked over to where Kyrie was standing, and put his hand on her shoulder. "We are just trying to do what's best for you."

She looked into his eyes, and said, "Whenever an adult tells a kid that, it means that nothing is going to turn out the way that the kid imagines it."

"Maybe how you're imagining it isn't how it's going to be." Ducky said, in a matter of fact tone.

Kyrie thought about it for a minute before replying. "Of course I know that's not how it's going to be. I imagined that right now I'd be at school, worried about which boy might like me, worrying about how my grades were going to affect my college choices, worrying about what dress to wear to the prom." She then remembered how she felt that day in class when she found out her mother was dead. "But nothing is going like I imagined it. I never would have thought that my mother would die, that I would be left alone without her. I never dreamed that I would sit and listen to people so confused as to my existence. I never thought that I would feel so devastated that I wouldn't want to get out of bed. Nothing could have prepared me for all this that's happened. Nothing is as I've imagined it."

She walked over to the window seat that looked out over the garden. The warm sunshine hitting her face should have felt invigorating, but she felt nothing. "I never imagined it this way. I just want to meet him. There's the last connection of family that I have, and I just want to see it for mtself. I know it won't be a storybook ending, but I have to at least try."

They were both looking at her, she could feel it, even though her back was to them.

Ziva was the first one to speak. "If you're sure you want to, I'll set up a meeting."

Kyrie wouldn't describe the feeling she felt as joy, but she did feel a little lift in her spirits. She turned around, hoping that a smile would be on her face. But she couldn't get a smile onto her face, her soul was still so hardened by grief.

"Ziva are you sure?" Ducky asked. "You need to do what's best for Kyrie, not only what she wants."

Ziva looked into Kyrie's pleading eyes, and said, "Kyrie's a strong girl. Jenny knew she was strong, but I don't know that she knew just how brave and courageous her daughter was. It's just one meeting. And then I can evaluate from there how far things will go."

"Thanks, Ziva." Kyrie whispered, tears forming in her eyes as she thought about her mother, and how strong her mother had been. She missed her so much.


	15. Gibb Call

"Gibbs."

Ziva cringed at how abrupt he was, and wondered if it was her imagination telling her that he sounded more short than usual. And that was hard to do.

"Do you want to meet her?" She asked, getting to the point.

A small chuckle at the other end of the phone came before he said, "I didn't know I needed your permission to see my own daughter."

He could make her so angry. She bit her tongue before saying something very rude, knowing that he was grieving just as much as she was. Taking a deep breath, she asked again, "Do you want to see her or not?"

"Is this a threat?" He asked.

She might as well spill the beans now. "Jenny left me in charge of her daughter's wellbeing. After the episode this afternoon, it made me reconsider whether you'd be good for her right now." She sounded so calm and collected, but inside her heart was beating like crazy. She had never talked to Gibbs like this before today.

There was a pause at the other end of the phone. _Hopefully he is thinking,_ Ziva thought.

"Well then I guess it's your call, David."

No hint of sarcasm or anger. She was impressed. "Where?"

"Conference room."

"You'd better be on your best behavior, Gibbs." Ziva said, her voice indicating that he would regret it if he wasn't.

His response made her smile. "I'll be the perfect gentleman." And he hung up.


	16. Meeting Her Father

Kyrie's heart was pounding against her chest. Sweaty palms gripped the handles of the chair she was sitting on. The large table in front of her made her feel so small, but she knew how she was feeling was only in her mind. She had to be strong – that would have been what her mother would have wanted, right?

Ziva had led her to this room in the building where her mother had worked. She wished she had been able to see her mother's office, the chair where she would sit and do her job, the place where she changed the lives of people. But Ziva said there was already a new director, and, since Ziva didn't work here anymore, she didn't have clearance to take her there.

That was fine. Ziva sat beside her, watching to see when Kyrie was going to break down into tears. But Kyrie wasn't going to give into the feelings she had. No, she couldn't. She just had to meet her father.

Honestly, she didn't even understand it all herself. There wasn't any reason that she should want to meet her father so badly. She had never known him, she had never even really wanted to know who he was.

But everything was screwed up after her mother's death. She didn't know why or what she felt anymore.

And he seemed like the last link to her mother that she had.

Pulling Kyrie out of her reverie, Ziva asked her once more, "Are you sure you want to do this? We could wait a few days if that would make it easier?" She asked.

Kyrie just shook her head, "I have to do this."

Ziva nodded, like she understood.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door across the room, and Ziva walked over to the door, and stepped out. Kyrie had asked on the way to the office that she be able to meet her father alone, without feeling like someone was watching her reaction. Ziva had protested, but had eventually caved in when Kyrie asked her how she would feel.

Ziva stepped out, and Kyrie could hear Ziva saying something, probably some threats on his life if he hurt her at all.

Then she saw him.

He was tall, but not too tall. His grey hair looked good on him. He didn't look too old or too young. He wore a green polo underneath a dark suitcoat, and jeans gave him a very non imposing look.

But her eyes met his, and she saw something that she had seen before. His eyes. They were a deep blue, like the ocean. But they were filled with something – filled with sadness. The same thing that hers seemed to be filled with lately.


	17. Meeting His Daughter

_She's Jenny._ Gibbs thought to himself. _She's the mini Jenny_

Her eyes met his, and he took a deep breath. Those eyes were as green as her mother's had been. Her hair was just a bit softer red than Jenny's had been. She held herself just like her mother had, defensive until she would be sure that she could trust someone. Her shoulders held high, she pulled herself out of her chair, and extended her hand out to him.

"I'm Kyrie Shepard."

She had a British accent – her words sounded so beautiful. He remembered that Jenny had lived in London before she came to take the director position.

He took her hand and returned the shake, her hands soft and small in his calloused and large hand.

He tried to speak, but could barely get out his words. "Agent Gibbs."

She had more confidence than he did, and that was very unusual for him. There had only been a handful of times in his life that he had been speechless.

As he looked closer, he could see a bit of himself in her face. The way her nose connected to her cheek, her chin, sure he was there. But not as much as Jenny was. Her hair fell past her shoulders, onto her sweater that she had been wearing at the lawyer's office earlier that day. She did have her mother's classy dressing taste. A small locket hung at her neck, and his eyes were drawn even more closely to it, realizing that there was something engraved on the front of it.

She followed his gaze, and said, "Mum gave it to me, to remember her when she went away." Her fingers opened the tiny locket with ease, and she held it out for him to look and see it. "It's a picture from our favorite place in Paris."

He could see Jenny's face, smiling in such a big smile that he had never seen before. And a little girl, maybe seven or eight years old, also smiling. When she closed it, he could see the words _Together In Paris_ engraved on the front in beautiful gold lettering.

She gestured to a chair, inviting him to sit down, before she herself took her chair again.

 _This girl is offering me a seat in my conference room._ Gibbs thought. _She is a very confident girl._

He sat. And he decided it was his turn to ask a question from her. "Do you like it here in the states?" _Leroy, really? That's the best you can come up with?_

She smiled. Oh, her smile was so beautiful, it melted his heart. "Well, actually I really miss Britain. That's always been my real home. Sure, we moved around a lot, but that was where we spent the most time."

"So have you ever been to the states before?" _Another very interesting question: if you were talking to a brick wall._ "Sorry. I've just never done this." He said, admitting what they both knew.

"Can I confess something?" She asked, "I've never done this before either."

He smiled. "Well then I guess we're both at a loss."

She nodded.

"How about you ask me any question you've been wanting to know. That way we can just break the ice and get down to what we both want to know?"

A smile came to her face. "Ziva said you were straightforward. Mum was like that too." She paused to think about how to word her question, and he marveled again at how absolutely wonderful she seemed – she didn't seem like a spoiled brat who had spent her life in boarding school – she seemed very well mannered. Of course Jen would never raise a brat – but … His thoughts were interrupted when she asked her question.

"Did you ever love my mother?"

He felt like he had been punched in the gut. She sure didn't shy away from the hard questions.

"Sorry, is that too personal of a question?" She asked. She looked scared that she had offended him.

He shook his head. "No, just didn't expect such a deep question right away. You are very much like your mother." He said.

"So I've been told, many times in the last week." Sadness took over her face, and Gibbs wished that he could take that away.

"Well, you should take that as a compliment. Your mother was a great woman." He took a deep breath before he began to answer her question. "It was such a long time ago that I met your mother for the first time. At first we were just partners, watching each other's backs, protecting each other. But soon we began to understand each other. Your mother was the first person who I felt like I could talk to about anything and she would still listen."

She nodded. "She was a great listener."

"I would have to say, that in my own way, I did love your mother. She has always held a special place in my heart." It hurt to talk about Jen in the past tense. "It's going to be hard now that's she's gone."

She looked at him. Not just looking at him, but looked like she was trying to see into his head, trying to see just how much of a man that he really was, trying to see how much she could trust this person.

They both just sat there for a minute, thinking about the one person they had in common – the one person who wasn't there for either of them.

She broke the silence. "Now it's your turn. Ask me anything."

He sat back, thinking through how to word this without setting himself up for rejection. He knew she had been through so much, and he wanted to be there for her. But he also wanted to do what was best for her – for his… daughter – and he needed to know how she felt about him before he could do anything to help her.

"I get one question, right?" He asked, making sure she was sure it was ok to ask her. She nodded. He took a deep breath. "How much do you want me involved in your life?" There, it was out. Now he could know how she felt towards him.

She sat back in her chair, and started chewing on her nails, like she was in deep thought. _I've already started noticing her habits and patterns._ Then he scolded himself. _Careful. Don't get too attached. What if she doesn't want to open up to you?_

After a few minutes, she sat back up in her chair, and said, "I have nothing left in my life. The one person I really cared about, she's gone." Gibbs expected a tear or two to fall at the mention of her mother's passing, but she didn't blink an eye. "Nothing will ever take her place, and I know that. But I have no other place to go. Ziva can't take care of me anymore because she has to leave and go to Israel. I can tell that having a young person in the house is hard on Ducky."

Gibbs marveled at how intellectual this child could be. She didn't even blink an eye at laying everything down on the table, not even knowing the person she was sharing it with.

"I'm not telling you this to get your sympathy. Trust me, that's the last thing that I want." She paused, looking at him straight on. "I don't know that I'm ready for a relationship like other daughters have with their fathers, but I do need a place to stay."

He was taken aback. She wasn't just open about what was happening, but she was so straightforward that she made him feel uncomfortable. _Maybe this is how other people feel when you're straightforward with others._ She didn't bat an eye about telling him that she didn't need a relationship with him, but just needed a place to lay her head at night. He gave her credit for having the guts to say that.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Well, at least now I know where you stand."

"That's how I like it."

 _She most definitely is your daughter._

He thought for a minute, then said, "I'm not home much. The house isn't very big, and it's… well, I've lived alone for most of my life, so the house looks like that."

She thought about it for a minute, what appeared to Gibbs as weighing her options in her head.

He said, "But if you want to go back to London, I'm sure there's a way."

She shook her head. "No, there isn't. I don't want to go back without her."

Still no emotion on her face. Either she was a very hidden-emotion kind of person, or there was something wrong with how she was dealing with her mother's death.

"If Ziva agrees, then I think it would be fine if you wanted to stay with me for a while."

He was amazed at how this conversation had turned his life around. First time meeting his long-lost daughter. He had been made to confront his feelings for Jen, even though he had sidestepped the issue. And he was soon going to have a teenager staying with him at his house. It definitely wasn't how he saw this conversation going, but if that's what she wanted, then he didn't care whether she stayed or didn't. He thought it would be fun having someone live with him, and he would get to know her better. He knew this had been one of the most awkward conversations he had ever had in his whole life, but that was to be expected, meeting his daughter for the first time.

A/N I can see how many people are reading my story - come on, guys - review please! This is a very important story to me, and I'd love to hear from you! Even just send me a PM, that's cool too! Just let me know how you think it's going!


	18. The Decision

"Absolutely not!"

Kyrie should have expected to hear that.

"But why not? It's not like he's a stranger."

"But he is!" Ziva yelled. "You just met him today."

"I met him, that means he's not a stranger."

Ziva huffed, "Kyrie Jennifer Shepard, you know what I meant." She hoped using the girl's full name would help her listen to reason.

But she was wrong.

"What's so bad about it? You can't take me with you! I can't stay here with Ducky all the time – and he's my father."

Ziva hated to see how much Kyrie had counted on this. Ziva felt like she had been played. Kyrie had thought all along that if she could just meet her father, then she could convince him to let her live with him, and she would be out of everyone's hair. And with her and Gibbs teaming up, Ziva didn't know if she could stick to her guns.

"You don't even know him. What if you hate him?"

Kyrie got a stubborn look on her face, and said, "Then it's my fault."

The letter from Jenny still at the forefront of her mind, Ziva said, "You're mother left me in charge of your wellbeing. I'm the one responsible if something goes wrong."

"What could possibly go wrong?" The voice came from the doorway of Ducky's house.

 _Gibbs_ , Ziva cringed.

He was standing there, in the hallway, watching the two of them, and Ziva knew that she had almost lost the fight.

He continued, "I'm a federal agent, I don't do drugs, I'm not an alcoholic. I have a good job. There's room at the house for her, and you are about to leave the country. What other option do you have?" He said. It sounded so convincing until she remembered Jenny's letter.

She turned to the teenager who was watching like she had already won. "Kyrie, would you excuse us for a minute?"

"Of course." She said, starting up the stairs, until Ziva stopped her.

"Would you mind going out to the garden for a few minutes. It would be good for you to get some fresh air." Ziva said, knowing that the only reason Kyrie was fine about going upstairs was because she could still hear them talking. Outside in the garden, she was completely unable to eavesdrop.

Rolling her eyes, knowing she had been beaten, the girl walked out to the patio, and shut the door before walking out into the lush garden Ducky had.

Turning back to Gibbs, Ziva handed him the letter Jenny had given her. "This is why I don't want to just turn her over to you."

She watched his eyes running through the lines, taking in the information that Jenny had given to Ziva. When he got to the part about keeping his daughter from him until Ziva was sure that he wouldn't hurt her, his eyes grew wide, and she knew that he could get very angry after that.

He sat down in the chair, when he was finished, and just sat there, almost stunned.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. After a few tries, he finally got it out.

"Ziva, I wasn't married."

She thought he was covering his ass. Until he said, "The divorce had been final just days before I left for Paris. She just couldn't accept it." He looked up at her, and said again. "I didn't think to explain it. But I would never cheat. Jenny was much better than a mistress, she meant more to me than that." He put his head in his hands, "I should have told her. I just assumed she knew."

Ziva couldn't believe it. They had been separated over a miscommunication. Wow. What a punch to the head. Or stomach, or gut, whatever it was.

She softened her approach, because she was just as much at a loss as he was. He just found out he had a daughter that morning, and she had just been given a responsibility that was so much above her expertise. "Gibbs, what would you do?" He looked up at her. "What would you do if someone you loved very much gave you the responsibility of making sure her daughter was taken care of? Gibbs I trust you, with my life, I know you. What would you do though?"

He just looked from the paper in his hands, back to her. After a few minutes, he said, "You have to take the responsibility seriously. You have to use your judgement to determine what you need to do that's best for Jenny's girl."

"Use my gut?" Ziva asked, tongue and cheek.

Gibbs smiled, and said, "Yes."

Ziva thought about it. She understood what Jenny had meant by make sure that Gibbs wouldn't emotionally hurt her daughter. She understood that at times he could be very calloused. That was a given. But he was also the best person she'd ever seen when working with kids – he could always connect with them in ways that many others would not have. And Kyrie had gravitated to him, wanting to know her father more. And Ziva, with her own father problems, knew that a relationship with some of her family would mean more to Kyrie later in life, even more than it did now.

Her gut was telling her one thing, and Jenny was telling her another. So she decided.

"If you mess this one up, Gibbs, I'll kill you." And they both knew that she meant it.


	19. She has Nothing

"Well, where are your things?" Gibbs asked Kyrie, looking in the trunk of his car, just seeing only the one bag that Ziva had loaded into the trunk before they left Ducky's.

The girl replied, "That's it."

Sure, he was a guy, and sure, he was a light packer. But for a teenage girl to only have that much luggage, that was strange. He gave her the look that said he didn't believe her. "You're telling me that out of everything you own in this world, this is it?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Explain yourself." He said, in a mocking commander tone of voice.

She giggled just a little, before she said, "Well, most of my clothes were all uniform for school, and you have to turn those in before you leave the school. And all of my things were at the DC house after mother moved her, and she would just bring me what I needed when she came to see me." She thought back, and he hoped she wouldn't start crying. And she didn't.

 _And that's your fault, for burning down the house._ He thought to himself as he lifted her very light bag from his trunk. Motioning for her to follow him, he pulled his cell phone out and speed dialed.

"Special Agent Tony Dinozzo"

"Tony. I need you." He said, walking up the sidewalk to the house, juggling holding her bag, holding his phone, and making sure she didn't trip over the uneven sidewalk.

"Um, Boss, I'm actually busy packing for my wonderful cruise out in the ocean for months."

Gibbs didn't say anything. Just waited for the agent to feel the wrath of Gibbs coming down on him. And, five seconds later, Tony said, "What do you need me to do?" Reluctantly, but still committed.

"Get Abby from the lab and meet me at my house."

Gibbs could hear Tony sit up in his chair, and say, "Does this have something to do with Director Shepard's daughter?"

He rolled his eyes at the curiousity of the boy. "Be here in 10." And he hung up the phone, knowing that the drive from the office to the house was at least 15 minutes long.

He turned to Kyrie, and said before he opened the door, "Now, remember, it's not like Ducky's house. It needs a woman's touch to make it home. But you're very welcome to do whatever you would like with it."

She just smiled, and stepped in while he held the door open.

A/N - I hope that I fixed that error with Gibbs still being married - and I don't know anything about Stephanie, so if the timing is off, then that's ok. Sorry for that.


	20. Moving Day

Kyrie had never seen a room so bare – except when she had moved into their London townhouse – but soon the furniture had been brought in, so it looked full. This house looked lived in, but completely bare. In the living room sat a single couch against the far wall, and in the corner sat a TV that must have been 30 years old. Or something like that, Kyrie imagined. The dining room had what looked like an old desk as the dining table, but the table was coated with dust. One chair was the table's companion. The kitchen was a big kitchen, but there was nothing on the counters, just the oven, fridge, and sink.

She followed… him… she didn't quite know how to refer to him – she followed up the stairs, where there were four doors in the hallway. He said that there were three bedrooms, one was his, one was an office, and, he opened the door, to what he said would be hers.

She made herself not cry, because it was just a room, painted white. The windows were bare, no covering for them at all. In the corner of the empty room, there was a cot. A military issued cot. As she walked in, the dust from the wood floor flew into the air, and dust particles could be seen in the sunlight streaming in through the window. She knew that before she turned around, she had to have a smile on her face, any sign of ungratefulness should be wiped away. That was the polite thing to do.

"It's so big." She said, a smile plastered on her face when she turned around. He smiled at her, and set her bag down by the door.

"There's a bathroom right across the hallway. Just move any of my things to make room for whatever you have and need."

 _He was trying_ She thought. "Thanks"

"I know it's not much, but we can fix up some things in a few days." He said, showing that he cared that she be happy.

Being the optimist that her mother had raised her to be, she said, "I've had worse." Even though she couldn't remember anything worse.

Suddenly, downstairs the door to the outside flew open and she could hear voices. "Boss, we're here. We hurried." It was Tony's voice.

Then a girl's voice called. "We almost died. It was almost as bad as Ziva's driving." Then she said, "OW! Tony, that hurt!"

"It wasn't that bad, Abbs." Tony said.

Kyrie looked at Gibbs, and she smiled, knowing that Ziva's driving made you really contemplate what would happen at death.

Gibbs walked down the stairs, and Kyrie followed him, amazed at the amount of dust that was on the banister.

She could see the surprise on the faces of the visitors. Sure, they had expected to see Gibbs. But they both looked at her with eyes wide. Tony's mouth hung open.

Gibbs smiled at their surprise. "This is Kyrie."

Abbey waved at her, and said, "Hi, Kyrie. I'm Abbey."

Kyrie smiled at how awkward everyone was acting. At least she wasn't the only one who had to feel out of place.

Everyone was looking at Gibbs for an explanation. And, of course, he seemed oblivious to the fact that having a teenager in your house was a big deal.

After a few seconds of quiet, Tony broke the silence, "So you and Director Shepard…"

He didn't finish his statement.

Gibbs interrupted him. "This is my daughter."

That still didn't help the awkwardness, but Kyrie figured everyone would soon figure it out. She said, "I think I'll go unpack, if that's ok?" She turned to walk up the stairs, but was stopped when she heard.

"Unpack what?" Gibbs asked, and she turned around to see a smile on his face. "You don't have anything in that bag of yours."

She opened her mouth to say she just wanted to get settled, when he interrupted her by turning to Abbey and saying, "Abbey, can you take this girl shopping? You know what girls wear, right?"

Abbey got a huge smile on her face, and she looked at Kyrie before she said, "Yes, I sure do!"

Gibbs pulled out his wallet, handed his credit card to Abbey, and motioned for Kyrie to follow Abbey. "Get her whatever she wants. There's no limit."

Now it was Kyrie whose mouth hung open. She just looked at him.

"Now hurry and leave before I change my mind." Gibbs said, and Abbey reached out and grabbed Kyrie's hand and before she knew it, they were on their way to the store.

Tony laughed at the look on Kyrie's face before she left. "She was so surprised, Boss."

Gibbs didn't acknowledge him, only said, "Grab that toolbox there and meet me upstairs." Gibbs walked down to the basement. Now it was Tony's turn to be confused.

"Boss, what are we doing with the tools?" His mind began to answer his question, and he said, "Boss, don't forget I have to go pack."

Gibbs just looked at him, and Tony rolled his eyes, knowing it was pointless to argue. He walked upstairs, and found the room with the door open. "Wow, Boss" he yelled, thinking Gibbs was downstairs, "It's a wonder she didn't break down into tears when she saw this. I sure would've"

A quiet voice came right behind him. "Guess she's more of a man than you are, Dinozzo."

Tony jumped, and said, "Guess so, Boss." Then, while Gibbs took out the measuring tape and started measuring something, Tony began to talk. "So, since we'll be bonding for a while, will you tell all about how you and the Director…"

Gibbs slapped the back of his head, and Tony knew it was going to be a long day.


	21. The Pain is Still There

Gibbs sat on the couch, the shade to the window across the living room open so he could see when the girls got home. His shirt was full of sweat, and the beer in his hand felt cold – just what he needed after working. Working with Tony was what the beer was for. That boy needed to learns something about working with tools.

Tony had left to take Ziva to the airport – she had come over to help with the decorating. She had been so surprised to see that he had taken thought for Kyrie's room. They had brought in a bed and dresser from the shed behind the house – stored there for who knows how long, Gibbs thought. Ziva had brought the curtains, bed set, and a small rug to cover the bare wood floor. Then they all had cleaned and scrubbed the room from top to bottom, getting all the dust and dirt out – and a few of the creepy crawlies that had taken residence in the empty room. Ziva had been satisfied before she left, and Gibbs assured her that Kyrie would be fine. He thought that maybe he was figuring something out about all this dad stuff.

The car pulled into the driveway, and Gibbs got up off the couch to go out and help them bring in the stuff that they had bought. He was so excited for Kyrie to see the room. But before he could even get to the front door, he saw Kyrie get out of the car, slam the door, and run into the house. He stepped out of the way as she ran past him.

"Wow, girl. What are you doing?" He asked, curious.

She stopped at the first step of the stairs, and turned around to face him. Her face was red, and her eyes held a fire in them that Gibbs had seen many times before. Jen's face held that same blaze when she was pissed with him. Kyrie said, spitting her words out. "If you think you can buy me things to like you, you're sadly mistaken." And with that she stomped up the stairs, ran to her room, and slammed the door.

Gibbs didn't know what had just happened.

Behind him, Abbey said, "She was quiet the whole day, but I didn't think anything was wrong. But on the way home, she seemed like she was more upset than she had been."

He turned around to face her, and he took the packages she had in her hand. "Did she say anything about why she was like this?" He asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing. She was fine."

Gibbs thanked her for taking Kyrie out. He walked her out to the car, grabbed the rest of the bags before telling her goodbye. _What did I do wrong,_ He thought _I was just trying to help._

When he got back inside the house, he set the packages down in a pile, and walked slowly up the stairs. _She's gotta learn that she can't act like that. She needs to talk to me in a grownup conversation and talk about what she thinks I did wrong._ He stood outside her door, gathering his thoughts when he heard her crying. His thoughts completely changed, and he, again, felt like he had no idea what he was doing. He knocked, and when he didn't hear anything but crying, he went to open the door. But the handle turned but the door wouldn't open. _She put something in front of it._

"Can I come in?" He asked to the door.

Sniffling, and she said, "I don't want to talk to you right now." And then he realized that she hadn't put anything in front of the door – she was sitting in front of the door.

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Kyrie, what's the matter?"

"I said I don't want to talk to you right now." Her voice crackled, and he heard more crying, even though she was trying to sound tough.

He thought for a minute. Then he said, "If you don't let me in, I'll come in anyway. I kick doors down for a living, remember?" He waited, giving her a minute to move. When he heard the floor shift, he slowly opened the door, to find her sitting against the wall. Her knees were pulled up to her chin, and her head was laying on her arms that were folded on top of her knees. But of course she had her head turned the opposite way from him.

He closed the door. And sat down with his back against the door, right next to her.

"I said…"

He interrupted her. "You don't want to talk to me. So I've heard." He looked at her, her hair whispy over her face. "So what did I do to make you mad at me?" Her shoulders tensed. But she didn't say anything. But her shoulders started to shake, and he heard her breathing increase and she started to cry again.

And he did the first fatherly act he'd ever done. He put his arm around her shoulders. And pulled her close to him. And to his surprise, there was no resistance from her, and she sank into his embrace. And they sat there, her gut wrenching sobs pulling his heart into shreds. After a few minutes, she calmed herself down enough to say, "Mom and I always went shopping together." And she looked up into his eyes, her cheeks stained with salty tears, and she said, "I miss her so much."

And she started crying again, burying her head into him. He just rubbed her arm, and said, "I know. I know." As tears came to his eyes.


	22. Bonding?

They sat there, on the wood floor, her crying her heart out, him wishing he could take her pain away. Wishing for anything to comfort her with. But the only thing she wanted was her mother. And no matter how much he wanted it, Jen was not coming back.

The sun went down, leaving them sitting in the dark. But they didn't move.

Gibbs could feel her start to calm down, her breathing starting to even out, her body weakening from the exertion from the last few days.

He ran his fingers through her soft hair, and said quietly, "Shhh… you don't have to be strong anymore."

And she just lay there. And he just held her.

Then she spoke. "Thanks for the room." Her quiet voice hoarse from crying.

He smiled, and said, "Well, I hoped you would like it."

She sat up, and looked into his eyes, not saying anything. Just looking at him.

And he just studied her. Maybe this was how she was like him.

Then she said. "I'm sorry."

"Never apologize. It's…"

"A sign of weakness." She finished with him. And, with the puzzled look on his face, she explained, "Mum said that too." She stood up, and walked over to the bed. "Did you pick this out?"

He laughed, and said, "Oh, no." She smiled. "Ziva picked it out."

"That's what I thought."

Gibbs watched her take in the whole room, her green eyes still bloodshot from crying, but a small smile on her face made Gibbs hope that she was feeling a bit better. Standing up, he gestured to the door. "How about we get some dinner and look at what you and Abbs found at the store?"

Her eyes fell, and she said, "I didn't mean what I said, about you buying…"

Now it was his turn to interrupt her. "I know." And that was the end of that in his mind. He knew that she wasn't upset about the clothes, but that shopping hadn't been with the person she remembered it to be. Her life had changed so much in the last week, especially the last 24 hours, and she was still deeply grieving. He understood that.

They walked down the stairs, and Gibbs said, "Chinese or pizza?" As he grabbed the takeout menus he had on the kitchen counter.

"Chinese is my favorite." She said, then added politely, "But whatever you want."

"Chinese it is." Gibbs said, a small smirk on his face. Chinese had been Jen's favorite too.

They ordered, and she showed him some of the things she had bought, profusely thanking him for each thing she pulled out of the bag. Gibbs couldn't care less which outfit she had gotten on sale, or which sweater matched which scarf perfectly. He just loved watching her talk to him, watched her tell stories about the mishaps at the stores, or just see her being happy – as happy as she could expect to be. After bags and bags of clothes, she sat back, sinking into the couch, a box of Chinese noodles in her hand, and chopsticks in the other.

"I was so hungry. I didn't know I was so hungry." She said, looking at her watch. Her eyes got big, and she looked at him with surprise. "It's almost one in the morning?"

"I guess so." He said, not surprised. They had sat together, letting her talk about anything that came to her mind, so they had been there for a while. "Not a big deal."

They sat in silence, the only sound of them eating their food. He scraped the last noodle from the bottom of the carton, and looked up to find her just staring at him, like she was deep in thought. He asked, "What?"

She just kept looking at him, and said, "What are you thinking right now?"

 _Oh, Jen, she's just like you._ He thought. _You asked me the same thing dozens of times on our operations. And I said the same thing every time._ "I was thinking about you."

Confused, "Me? What about me?"

But they didn't get to finish that thought, because his phone started ringing.

"Gibbs."

"It's Leon." The voice on the other end of the phone sounded tense. "We have a situation. I need you here. Now."

Out of habit, he said, "I'll be there in five." And clicked the phone shut, then found himself staring at Kyrie, wanting to kick himself. _You can't just leave her here, all alone, on her first night with you! She's just a teenager. What a great father you are!_ He thought.

Almost as if she could read his mind, she smirked, and said, "Oh, don't worry. Go. I'll be fine." When he started to argue with her, she said, "Trust me, I'm so used to this. Just go. I'll call you if I need anything."

He grabbed his coat, and thought on the way out to his car, _You have the perfect daughter. She's a saint._

A/N - Ok, guys - I'm just warning yall - the next few chapters are gonna be a bit more scary and intense. Here is where y'all are going to see where I'm going different from the normal Jenny and Gibbs in Paris with a Kid. Ok? I would love your feedback! Thanks for all the views and reviews! Love yall!


	23. Torture

Warning: Rated M for language!

She couldn't breathe. Her heart started racing, pounding against her frail chest with a vigor she had never known before. She clawed at the hands holding her down into the water, but no matter how hard she thrashed, she still couldn't get her head above water. Her ears started projecting a painful screeching sound. Terror clawed at her throat; her lungs screamed for relief, but no sound escaped her mouth. Black dots began spotting her vision.

Just when her body started caving into unconsciousness, the rough hands jerked her face out of the water, causing her to sputter and cough up the water she had swallowed. She sucked in as much air as she could, an instant reaction of her body to the air that it so desperately needed. Thrown to the ground, she collapsed in a heap without as much as a grimace from the hard concrete scraping her skin. All she could think about was breathing.

But before she had barely caught her breath, a hand grabbed her by her hair, whipping her whole torso up off the ground. The man whispered in her ear, "Ready for another go, bitch?" His sneering voice sending chills up her spine. A wicked laugh followed the threat as he pulled her face toward the pool of water, and all she could think about was how much she couldn't survive anything else.

Her hands found the ledge of the concrete pool, and she pushed with what strength she had left. The other men around her laughed at her feeble attempt to save herself, and the man who held her head said, "You don't have to go back in there." But she just shook her head, already knowing what he would say next. And she wouldn't do it. No matter what. Even if it killed her. And she was certain that it would. That he would.

A/N – just wanted to tell you that I had to change a bit of the timeline in order to fit something into my story. So instead of however long the team was split up, I set it that all those things happened in about 2 weeks, and they were back together after that. I think that gives me enough time to do somethings that I'm sure yall will appreciate! Thanks for understanding.


	24. Into the Nothing

A/N – just wanted to tell you that I had to change a bit of the timeline in order to fit something into my story. So instead of however long the team was split up, I set it that all those things happened in about 2 weeks, and they were back together after that. I think that gives me enough time to do somethings that I'm sure yall will appreciate! Thanks for understanding.

Three weeks after.

Kyrie walked into the dark and empty house, knowing before she entered that there would be no one home. She wished that she could just get used to it, it had, after all, been three weeks since she had moved in with … Gibbs. She laughed to herself that she still couldn't stomach calling him father, dad, or any other paternal name. But, to be fair, she hadn't actually seen him for more than 20 minutes at a time since her first night at his house. He came home at night, usually after midnight, and left before she woke up in the morning – she heard the front door slam every morning around five or six. She left for school at seven thirty, and, for the first week, she got home around three. But after sitting at home all night alone until she fell asleep waiting for him to get home, she finally decided that she could do much more fun things if he was never home.

Flipping the kitchen light on, she threw her bag full of books onto the floor by the kitchen table. Her mother would have thrown a fit if Kyrie would have done that, but at this house? He couldn't care less. And so what difference did it make? She knew better than to open the fridge to find anything to eat – the only things he kept in there was a case of beer – and she didn't know why he even had that in there. He always just had the bourbon down in the basement when he wasn't feeling happy about something. Not really that hungry anyway, she pulled a candy bar out of her backpack from the convenience store up the road, and went up the stairs, leaving the kitchen light on just to piss him off when he got home. Maybe then he would notice her. That would have infuriated her mother. But not him.

She threw herself onto her bed, which had been pristinely made that morning before she went to school. Sure, making messes to maybe annoy him was one thing, but she liked her personal space to be clean and organized – that was an important part of her life. The room looked a little more lived in, a little bit more personalized since she first moved in. There were pictures from her trips around the world decorating the walls, and the central picture was one that she had taken from restaurant in Paris with the Eifel tower in the background. She had a few books along the dresser, along with a picture Ziva had given her of the Israeli sunset – one of the things Kyrie treasured from her other home country.

A few pictures with her friend's from school made her miss London too. She had been keeping in touch with them, but as her life changed here in the states, they understood her less. And their lives were busy with college prep and exams, prom, and all the other things that made boarding school life seem so much better than what she had. Sure she went to school, but she only went to the public school that was in her district, and she could ace all the classes with ease – even without studying. Most of the classes in school she had already taken, but they didn't have any other classes for her to take, so she took them again. All of the kids had at first thought she was very weird and different – mostly because she was new, but also because of her accent. Most of them didn't even acknowledge her, which was fine by her. And there were a few who made fun of her as she walked from classes, but mostly she was alone. And she was fine with that.

There was one boy – his name was Henry. He was a loner just like she was. He ate alone. He walked to classes alone. Just like she did. Sometimes he came over and sat with her, not talking to her, but just sat a few spaces over. One day, Kyrie, in her straightforward way that she now knew was the combination of her father and her mother – she asked him why he always sat near her, but never talked to her. He said that he recognized that she must be in a very sad and depressed state. She had told him that she was not, just still grieving. But the next day, as he walked away after lunch, he had slipped her a package. Inside the envelope was a note that said, "People don't understand – these do." A few pills were in the seam of the envelope.

Kyrie remembered the horror she felt when she saw them, and had looked around to see that, as usual, no one had been paying attention to her. Never in her life would she ever think to take drugs, and she hadn't even thought to when he left those with her. But instead of throwing them away, she reasoned that she should keep them to make sure that no one else would find them and use them. And she stuffed them in her backpack and walked to class.

But she just couldn't seem to catch her footing.

Because she couldn't seem to get out of the cloud that followed her everywhere. The cloud that wouldn't leave her be – she felt so tired and sad all the time. She thought that maybe the feelings after her mother's death would subside with time – not that she would ever forget or not feel pain every time her mother's face came to her mind. But the feelings hadn't gotten less, but more heavy – like more weight on her shoulders. Nothing distracted her from it. Nothing came along and took her mind from it, even for just a few seconds.

Her thoughts were centered around how much she felt the hole that her mother left. The emptiness of never seeing her mother again – she never thought that something so empty could feel so heavy. She could lay in bed for hours, just staring into the darkness. Literally playing through the memories of her mother – hours and hours of the favorite and sad times that they had shared together. And when she did fall asleep, she had nightmares of her mother's funeral, of her mother's death – a house full of flames and smoke – screams coming out of the house. And each night she woke up in a cold sweat – only to find that being awake was just as painful as being in the nightmare. The nightmare wouldn't end.

She wondered if it ever would.

As she lay in her bed, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the little white baggy. She fingered the pills through the bag, her mind just wishing for a break from all the hurt that never left. Looking at her clock, she knew that Gibbs wouldn't be home for hours. She had seen kids do drugs, only here in the states, but she knew enough to find a piece of aluminum foil, a rolling pin, and a cigarette lighter. She crushed the pills, which she figured were oxy – her mother had taken something like this for an injury a few years back. Kyrie then held the cigarette lighter under the foil. The heat then began to cause the crushed powder to burn, the smoke rising from the foil in her shaking hands.

 _What am I doing?_ She thought, pulling her head away from the drugs in her hands. Her heart was racing, and she felt sick to her stomach at the thought of what she almost did. _I don't take drugs. There has to be another way. This isn't who I am!_ Her brain told her feelings. She leaned to wad up the drugs, but her eye caught sight of a picture taken in Paris two years ago – her mother had been smiling so much as they tried to take a selfie together – it had taken a few tries, either her mother's face was halfway outside of the picture, or they were laughing too hard and the picture was blurry. But the one that hung on the wall was perfect – the perfect reminder of what Kyrie would never have again.

She brought the burning drugs to her nose, inhaling as much as she could take into her lungs in her feeble attempt to burn the deep pain away from the lining of her mind. The smoke went to her lungs, and she started to couch, but made herself stop, knowing that unless she took the whole thing, she might remember something. She wanted to sink into oblivion. She wanted to feel happy again. She wanted to feel loved again. And as the drugs entered her blood system, she could feel the numbing beginning, her fingers tingled as her senses became immune to feeling. She sank backwards into her bed, and for the first time she didn't crawl into a fetal position – she lay in a completely restful position – completely and utterly in oblivion. For the first time, as she let the darkness take over her, she felt something other than grief – she felt nothing – and nothing had never felt more wonderful.

A/N - Please please please let me know what you think - I would really appreciate it!


	25. The office

"Kyrie!"

She jumped, her head flying off the pillow out of the peaceful sleep she had been in before…

"Breakfast." Gibbs called up the stairs, his Marine voice jarring her awake.

The fright gone, she collapsed back into bed, her heart rate coming back down to a normal pace. Her room was still dark, only because the papers she had put over the window blocked what would be the normal morning light. She rolled out of bed, a headache immediately greeting her, and she hoped it was just from waking up so suddenly.

"I'm coming…" She called back, but she hadn't been fast enough because her door rattled – the lock the only thing keeping Gibbs from walking in.

"Why is the door locked?" Came the confused voice muffled by the door.

Putting her feet into her jeans so fast she had to jump to keep from falling over, she said, "Because I'm getting dressed." She threw on a random shirt she picked up from the cluttered floor, she called back to the man at the door, "Since when do we have breakfast?" Wrapping her long hair into a bun on her head, she tied it up with a hair tie she kept on her wrist. She grabbed the small bag off the floor and shoved it into her pocket.

She whipped the door open, squeezed out without letting him see how messy her room was – and other things – and pulled the door shut behind her. He towered over her, his grey hair and piercing blue eyes drilling down into her sleepy stare.

He did his little smile – the smile that wasn't really a smile, but to Kyrie, it looked somewhat jovial. "Since it's Saturday and you get to come to the office with me." He answered, gesturing down the stairs.

The sleep hadn't completely cleared her foggy mind, but she knew enough to recognize _Saturday_. She padded down the stairs, feeling him following right on her heels. "For real? Saturday? Come on. Not one day to sleep in?" She complained, pulling out one of the two kitchen chairs around the table.

He just shook his head. "Nope." And he looked at his watch and did his little smile thing again. "A few hours before you normally get up, though."

He eyes flew to the clock on the stove. 5:03. This time her eyes rolled and she sent him a glance that was much more hostile. He shoved a plate of hot food in front of her.

 _Well, if you can call this food_ She thought. _A piece of microwaveable bacon and a burnt piece of bread. Just another well rounded American meal_. She complained in her head, holding up the hard toast in front of her face. "What is this?" She said, and she felt her nose wrinkle up just a bit.

He turned away from her to grab a cup of coffee from the cabinet. "Eat up. You're gonna need all the energy you can get."

Something about the way he said it made her fear what her day was going to entail even more than just how processed her food was. Taking a small bite of the toast, she was surprised she had any teeth left. With her mouth full, she asked, "What are we going to be doing?"

He just walked out of the door, out onto the porch. _That was weird,_ She wondered, until she saw him looking back at her, and he pointed to the car in the driveway. "Lets go." And he walked off to the car. _What?_ Was all she could muster as she hurried to slide her shoes on her feet, and, her growling appetite propelled her to pull the bacon and leftover toast into her hands before running out the door behind him, not wanting him to get all growly with her for keeping him from the office at _5 in the morning_!

She was barely in the car before he had the car on the street and speeding down the road. "Can I get my seatbelt on?" She asked sarcastically.

"Whatever you want." Was his reply.

 _Why am I even in this car? I'm not a get-up-at-the-crack-of-dawn kind of girl. And why now? After all this time he had been at the office, now he's so concerned about me?_ And her mind wasn't all that clear yet – and it wasn't only the early morning. She had been drug binging - the first feeling having caught her and enticed her - the freedom from reality had felt so good. The last few days had been a battle just to get up out of bed and go to school. And even at school she wasn't really wanting to be there, and yesterday she hadn't even tried to get up. Her eyes got wide as she had a thought. _What if he saw the empty pill bottle in the medicine cabinet? The bottle had been full just a few days ago. Maybe he found it and…_ Her heart started racing. She still had a half of the bottle still left in a baggy in her pocket. Her hands fingered the pills, and she started to calm down a bit, just the security of having them with her enough to calm her. _He would've said something if he had found them._ She assured herself.

He had on what he normally wore to the office – a polo and suit coat. And jeans. Seemed an ok look for him, in her opinion.

Now a bit curious about what she was going to be spending her day doing, she asked, "So, what's the plan?" Her voice sounded a bit forced happy - but it was so early – and it was Saturday.

"Just some old paperwork to finish." He said.

She was perturbed. And her voice sounded perturbed. "You drag me out of bed on a Saturday to do paperwork?" She watched his face for any reaction. When she got none, she added, "I have homework and friends to be with." Again, nothing. This time she was a little bit louder, voicing her seeming injustices felt good, "Why today of all days after you haven't been home at all the past three weeks?"

He pulled off to the side of the road, braking so hard her head almost hit the dashboard. He threw the car into park, twisted his body to look at her square on, and said, "Got a call from your principal. Said you played hooky yesterday." His stare made her squirm. And He just kept looking at her.

She said, "Why does it matter?" Finally able to voice how abandoned she felt. "You're never home anyway. Why should it bother you?" She kept her eyes staring back at him, not looking away as she waited for his answer.

The smug smile came back for the third time that morning, "It doesn't matter." He said quietly, and looked back to the road and pulled back into traffic.

She was sure she had won. She made him feel guilty for not being there. Finally. She crossed her arms in front of her, and looked out the window, her own smug smile on her face.

Until she heard the icy words that wiped all the victory from off her face. "Just like it doesn't matter that you'll be sitting with me at work all weekend."

"What?" She exclaimed, before bringing her before cool and collected atmosphere back into check.

"Gotcha on that one, didn't I?" He said,

Her blood was boiling, imagining her entire weekend spent being watched by Gibbs. And she was still hopping mad when they pulled into a nearly empty parking lot. He shut the car off, grabbed his coffee, and shut the door, and she was still sitting in the seat. She was gonna throw as much of a fit about having to be here as she could – she just wanted to get under his skin. But she jumped when he opened the door, and stuck his head in.

He leaned in really close to her face, and said, "We can make this as easy or as hard as you want to." His voice was really low, and she tried to keep from looking afraid.

She rolled her eyes at him, and just looked straight ahead. Her red haired temper began to show. "How's that?" She hissed.

He stood up, and part of her thought that he was going to let her take her own sweet time to get inside. Until he clapped his hands right next to her ear, scaring her so much she jumped. Then he leaned back down and said, "Follow me inside or I'll arrange that you're here with me all day, every day for the next month." And then he finally walked away.

She didn't dare sit in the car. But she took as much time getting out as she thought she could get away with and still be classified as following him. But as she watched him walk ahead of her, she couldn't believe how upset he made her. How did he get under her skin? He made her so mad. She wished she could be back in her bed, under the warm covers, deep in sleep. Instead she found herself sitting at the extra desk in the office, with absolutely nothing to do but sit there and watch him read papers. She settled back into her chair, wishing that she could sleep – but the bright lights from the skylight above the desk blinded her. So she just sat there. Waiting. And watching his smug face every time he looked at her.

Finally she laid her head down on the desk, using her arms as a pillow. She closed her eyes, willing the early morning to leave her and let her ascend into sleep for a few hours. And soon, she was fast asleep, her even breathing not matching the horrendous dreams she was having.

 _Her mother. Stood. Hands outstretched. Kyrie wanted to run into her arms. Until she saw that her mother wasn't standing on the ground. She was above the ground. The picture started to take focus – it was window. Second story of a building. But Kyrie couldn't breathe as the blackness darkened, the smoke fuming out of the windows, her face was burning from the heat that was coming from the building. Kyrie reached out her hands, trying to find her mother's, and she was just inches away when her mother's eyes grew wide, and a scream echoed from her lips, her eyes piercing a wordless cry for help. And suddenly the whole building collapsed, flames eating through the walls, leaving embers flying through the empty air. Screams still echoed. Kyrie realized they were her screams._


	26. Getting High

_Her mother. Stood. Hands outstretched. Kyrie wanted to run into her arms. Until she saw that her mother wasn't standing on the ground. She was above the ground. The picture started to take focus – it was window. Second story of a building. But Kyrie couldn't breathe as the blackness darkened, the smoke fuming out of the windows, her face was burning from the heat that was coming from the building. Kyrie reached out her hands, trying to find her mother's, and she was just inches away when her mother's eyes grew wide, and a scream echoed from her lips, her eyes piercing a wordless cry for help. And suddenly the whole building collapsed, flames eating through the walls, leaving embers flying through the empty air. Screams still echoed. Kyrie realized they were her screams._

She bolted out of her dream. She looked around the room to find four pairs of eyes on her. But she could still see her mother's eyes in the background. _It hurts so much_.

Catching her breath, she realized that she must have scared everyone sitting up so fast. She saw the time on the clock on the wall – 11:45 – and realized she had been asleep for a few hours. In that time, the other members of the team had been called in – and she hadn't heard them come in at all.

"Are you ok?" Ziva asked, concern on her face.

Kyrie nodded, "I'm just not used to waking up here." She plastered a smile on her face, hoping that no one noticed her shaking hands and heavy breathing.

Tony piped up, "You're hanging here all day? Interesting." He looked with suspicion at Gibbs, who ignored the agent's curiosity. Which just caused Tony to keep fishing. "Couldn't find a babysitter when you got called in a few minutes ago?"

"As if!" Kyrie muttered. Tony looked at her with interest, and Gibbs shot her a look that told her to be quiet. But she was still pissed off with him. Without tearing her gaze away from the head agent in the room, she told Tony, "We've been here since five thirty this morning. Paperwork."

She turned her eyes to Tony, who was now smiling ear to ear looking at Ziva. He tried to whisper, but the whole room heard him as he said to Ziva, "See, told you he has no life – even with a kid."

Ziva shot him a look that would silence even Abby, but as usual, Tony didn't get the message and spoke without thinking, "Wonder how this kid ever happened with two parents so committed to work – must have taken five minutes out of their schedules to make a baby."

Gibbs. Didn't react.

 _Maybe he's deaf._ She thought – but her thoughts were silenced when he stood up, walked over to Tony's desk, and said, "Something you wouldn't know how to do, huh, Tony?" And with that, Gibbs walked over to the stairs going up to the Director's office and MTAC.

McGee and Ziva cracked up – and Tony's face was almost as red as a firetruck – then they looked over at her, to see her reaction.

But she wasn't paying attention. And they went back to whatever paperwork they were doing.

She was thinking about how fast her heart was racing, how the light coming in the skylight was so bright, almost blinding. Her hands were shaking so badly that she could barely find her pocket to finger the small bag. _It's been almost 12 hours since the last fix. I need to get some more._ But she looked at the agent's around her. _But how? They'll notice…_

"Where's the bathroom?" She asked.

Ziva stood up. "I'll show you."

Kyrie opened her mouth to argue, but Tony interrupted, "NCIS rule – all guests have to be escorted in the building."

She followed Ziva down the hallway, knowing Ziva was talking to her, but all Kyrie could think about was getting those pills into her body – she could barely open the door to the bathroom she was shaking so badly – but Ziva didn't seem to notice.

Ziva waited outside the restroom while Kyrie went in. She walked into the stall, locked the door behind her. She grabbed the pill bag, her breathing was so heavy she was sure Ziva would notice even from outside the door. But she got the pills out of the bag. She looked around for somewhere to crush them – the sink counter outside the stall would be the perfect place, but someone could walk in on her at any time.

 _I have to get these. And soon._ She thought, sweat running down her face, but she was so cold. So she did something that made her feel disgusting and cheap. She knelt down on the ground, the cold tile on her knees rubbing her jeans into her skin. She set the pills on the floor, pulled her left shoe off her foot. She set the heel on the top of one pill and ground it, the floor and her shoe heel giving it enough friction to level the tablet into powder. She did the same thing with the second one. Leaning her face down close to the ground, she took a deep breath through her nose – the tiny specks of powder crawling into her body with the air she breathed.

She sighed with relief as the drug began to take effect. She leaned against the bathroom wall, her body so in ecstasy that she could barely move. Something in her subconscious told her to get up, that she had to pretend that she hadn't been doing that - but her whole body felt heavy and perfect as it was - so she lay there, on the floor of the bathroom, completely oblivious to the world around her.


	27. Fighting with the Door

Three Days Later.

"Leave me alone!" She yelled from the other side of the locked door. _I am about ready to yank that lock right off this door._ He thought, and added it to his mental task list.

"Let me in."

The door rattled as something she threw at it rocked the door. "No!" She screamed.

He was getting excessively frustrated with this teenager.

His gut was telling him there was something wrong, and there had been more than one incident that made his think he was right on in his uneasiness. Skipping school – from the record that her school in London had sent, she wasn't normally the skipping class girl. And her teachers had said she had been distracted lately. They had excused it as the trauma she was suffering after Jenny's death. And he was sure some of it was that.

But her attitude wasn't like her normal self – she seemed so distant. Her room was always locked, and she was always in there, when he came home, when he left in the morning, when he came home early to see her.

And Saturday's incident was confusing to him. She had been so stubborn – not the abnormal thing, in Gibb's opinion, considering just how stubborn Jenny had been – but in the afternoon, she had been the happiest girl, and she slept most of the day away at the desk – and seemed so subdued and quiet. They had come home, and she went to her room, and locked the door that night. And she hadn't left since.

"I'm sick. Go away." Was her response, that she yelled to the door – yesterday and now when he came to tell her it was time for school.

Ducky had said that this erratic behavior was normal for a teenager with as much as she had been through. That's why Gibbs had left her for the last few days to rest in her room – even Ziva said that she had looked exhausted Saturday when she had been at the office.

But it was Tuesday, and she needed to come out of that room. But he was needed at the office. "You're not sick." He argued. "Get out here or I'm coming in." It had worked last time, he thought.

"Oh, I'm so scared." She taunted him.

 _She is just like her mother – I'm about to strangle her!_ He thought. But he didn't want to play into her hand. And his phone was ringing – the director. He had to go.

So he said, to the closed door, "I'm going to call the school. If you aren't there on time today, you'll wish you were anywhere but here when I get home, you hear me?"

He didn't hear anything from the other side, and he wasn't about to be ignored. "I'm going to have Ziva pick you up from school, so you'd better be there."

Still nothing. He grabbed the door handle with his large hands and turned it, almost breaking the lock, to which she hastily said, "Ok, fine. Just leave."

Hating that he had to leave her here without seeing her this morning, he still had a job to do. He walked out the door, knowing she wouldn't go to school that day – hoping to be surprised. But he could feel it in his gut - there was something wrong.


	28. Notice

A/N - This is an edited chapter brought back after a few new chapters helping to explain it - I thought that it was too unbelievable to have Gibbs not notice something. But I want to tell you that its going to get back to Jenny soon - just needed to set this up - please let me know how it's going!

Ziva watched as the kids piled out from school, looking for one familiar face in the crowd. Finally she saw the red headed girl, and waved from the car until Kyrie saw her. Ziva had a big smile on her face as Kyrie got into the car, setting her backpack between her legs.

"How was school, Ky?" She asked, watching the girl buckle her seatbelt before she started very slowly into the line of cars that surrounded the school.

A mumbled, "fine" was all the response she got.

"Well, that's very crisper of you!" Ziva said, wondering why the girl wasn't her usual upbeat person she usually was.

"Ziva, it's chipper, not crisper." Kyrie said, her voice not holding the laughter that she usually corrected Ziva with.

Deciding to ignore the sour mood, Ziva started to chatter on. "I know it's been a long time since we did anything together, but with traveling to Israel, and the things at the office – it's just been a very busy time." She veered around someone who, in her opinion, was going way too slow, she continued, "Gibbs told me just to bring you by the office when we're done, and he'll take you home. Where do you want to go for dinner?" She asked, paying attention to the road.

"Well… I'm actually not feeling very well." Kyrie said, "Maybe you could just take me home?"

Ziva got concerned, because they always enjoyed their time together, and when they stopped at the next stoplight, she looked over too see how Kyrie looked – if she looked sick or not. She almost gasped when she really took a look at the girl. Her eyes were sunken into her skull, and dark, almost black, circles under and above her eyes – making her eyes stand out on her almost grey ashen face. The color of death, her skin, not just on her face, was translucent. Her hair was stringy, like she hadn't washed it in a few days, some of it hanging down covering one side of her face. Her nose was the only thing with color on it, the end was red, like she had sores from having to wipe her nose too much. Even her lips were pale, and they were pulled into a tight line, no sign of a smile or light anywhere on her face. Despite the warm fall of DC, Kyrie's arms were covered in a long sleeved grey sweater, and a pair of skinny jeans for her legs – that looked much thinner than Ziva remembered her.

Ziva pulled her eyes to the road, her mind spinning with just how bad the girl sitting beside her looked. "How long have you been feeling sick?" Ziva probed, wondering if she was just still in a depression that was taking a toll on the girl's body. Or maybe this was why Gibbs had asked her to take the girl out – maybe he wanted to know what she was thinking about her.

"Just since this morning." Kyrie answered, her voice monotone and stale. "Can I just go home?" She asked, but actually whined more.

It just wasn't like Kyrie – and Ziva understood that there must be some of the face that her mother had died only a month ago – and she was trying to get used to a new life – Ziva just hoped that it wasn't living with Gibbs that had brought this on – but Ziva was pretty convinced she must be very sick, and nothing more.

When they turned to go into the navy yard, Kyrie started squirming in her seat. "Can't you just take me home? I don't want to bother him."

When Ziva explained that it would just be easier to drop her off here and have Gibbs take her home, and Ziva had some paperwork to finish anyway, Kyrie just huffed, rolled her eyes, and slouched lower into the chair.

When they got to the parking garage, Ziva put the car in park, and turned to talk to the girl, "Kyrie, what's wrong?" But she barely got a word out before Kyrie was already out of the car, swinging her bag onto her back.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" The girl said in a loud tone, borderline yelling. "I'm fine! I just want to go home."

Startled by the outburst, Ziva walked behind the girl, who had definitely lost some weight, so much that she could see her leg bones through her jeans. On the elevator ride up, Ziva just studied the girl's features, wondering just how sick this girl must be to have changed that much in just one month. Kyrie caught Ziva looking at her, and said, "What?"

But the elevator had arrived at the squad room, and Ziva hurried out of there, glad to be away from the teenager. They walked in to find Tony and Gibbs both working at their respective desks, and McGee was gone for the weekend, something about a cyber conference or something.

Tony looked up as Kyrie walked past his desk to sit down at McGee's empty chair, and his eyes grew wide. _See, it wasn't just me_ Ziva thought. _She's changed so much._ Tony's gaze flew to Ziva, where they did the partner talk with just their eyes – they both agreed that she had changed.

Gibbs barely glanced up as Kyrie sat herself down hard in the chair, but then he went back to reading, while absently asking, "What happened to the dinner date, Kyrie."

Ziva waited for Kyrie to answer, but the girl was too absorbed in her cell phone, that Ziva said, "She wasn't feeling well, so we postponed dinner."

Gibbs looked up at Kyrie, and did a double take. _How long has it been since he saw her last? This morning? Yesterday? Last week?_ Ziva thought – but glad that he noticed. He would have to be blind not to. His eyes flew to hers, and she motioned for him to follow her – she had to know if he was looking out for her.

"I need to fill Ziva in about the case, Kyrie." Gibbs said, putting his glasses down on the desk and walking out toward the conference room, "I'll be right back and we can leave." The girl didn't even look up from her phone, and, perhaps, Ziva was glad that she didn't seem alarmed.

When they got to the conference room, Ziva started the talking. "What happened to her, Gibbs? She looks awful!"

He looked almost nervous, something she hadn't seen before. He just shook his head, "I knew there was something wrong. She locked herself in her room for the weekend and all day yesterday. Do you think she's sick?" He asked, obviously out of his league here.

"Um, yeah! She's either really sick or she's just really sad about her mother's death that it's taking a toll on her body." Ziva said, then thought about the exchange in the car. "She was really defensive when I asked her how she was doing. But maybe she just caught a nasty bug."

"Maybe." Gibbs said, "Perhaps we should have Ducky take a look at her." He suggested.


	29. Ducky's Revelatio

Ducky was just finishing up, turning all the lights in the lab off, when he heard the elevator's distinct ding – and the doors opened to show Gibbs and Kyrie standing there. Ducky was overjoyed to see the girl, and said, "Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of this pleasant surprise?" But then he saw Kyrie – and he tried to keep a straight face when he wanted to gasp. The before beautiful girl who held an air about her of confidence and poise now looked like she was dying – he would compare her to some of the corpses that had laid on his table.

Gibbs spoke, "Kyrie's not feeling well. Wondered if you'd check her out really quick?" The fear in Jethro's eyes showed Ducky that someone else had seen the look that Kyrie had.

The girl spoke, her eyes looking frantically around the room, before they flew to Ducky, "It's just a stomach thing. I just want to go home and rest."

Ducky led her over to a table, and assured her, "I'll be quick, Kyrie. Then you can go home." He grabbed his doctor bag from the cupboard while Kyrie sat down on the table. Putting on his stethoscope, Ducky noticed how small and frail the girl looked. He listened to her heart and lungs, they sounded fine, but he did notice the cold weather clothes she had on. He checked her ears, which looked clear. He then said, "Just open your mouth for me."

Kyrie's eyes got wide, and she seemed to be trying to come up with an excuse, but couldn't – slowly, she opened her mouth. Ducky saw that her tonsils didn't look to be inflamed, but she had sores all along the sides of her cheeks, and some of the sores on her lips were bloody and oozing pus – a sign of infection. He then saw the burns on her nose – he started connecting the dots. Picking up her hands, her skin felt cool and clammy – her fingers were so thin and her fingernails so fragile. On both thumbs he saw tiny grate marks, and small burns on her left index finger. Her eyes, which were surrounded by dark circles – they gave it away. Her pupils were so constricted they looked like two tiny dots made by a ballpoint pen.

"Well, darling, I don't see any sign of anything seriously wrong with you." He said, trying to sound chipper. "Must just be a virus." Helping her down off the table, he made eye contact with Jethro, who then instructed Kyrie to wait in the car while he closed up a case with the doctor.

When the elevator made the sound, Jethro got right to the point. "What is it, Duck?"

Ducky began to put his instruments away, and in a sad tone said, "She's high, Jethro."

The stunned look on his face told Ducky that he hadn't been expecting that. The silence allowed Ducky to explain. "It's some kind of narcotic, an opioid of some sort. Judging by the burn marks on her finger and her nose, I'd guess she's taking it by burning it and sniffing the drug." The look on Jethro's face began to go from shock to devastation. Ducky continued, "It looks like it's a high concentration, from the sores on her mouth. I don't think she's been eating much either, and that combined with the drug use accounts for the weight loss and pale skin. "

Finally Jethro had his voice back, "Where would she get drugs?" He said, and Ducky guessed that was the first question his mind could formulate. Then he asked, "I thought there was something wrong – but I just thought it was from her mother dying. I never thought it was anything more than a teenage attitude."

Ducky saw that he was beginning to blame himself, and he said, leaning over and resting his hand on the agent's shoulder, "You can't blame yourself, Jethro. She's a smart girl, so she's probably hid it quite well. It's so much harder to notice drug abuse in someone close to you rather than a suspect sitting across the interrogation table."

"What do we do now, Duck?"

This was the hard part, "You have to confront her. Tell her you know. And that you can't have it anymore. She's probably getting it off the street, so you'll just have to keep her home or go with her when she goes out." He took a breath, knowing this next part was going to be hard, "And if that doesn't work, you'll have to think about a drug rehab center."

Defeat found the man's soul, and he sank down against the wall, "How did I get to this place? I just got my little girl, for the first time I was a father. Now I find out that she's a druggie, ruining her life, and I might lose her to drugs – and she's going to hate me for the rest of her life for what I'm going to have to do."

Ducky said, "It seems like it may be a coping mechanism – how she's dealing with Jenny's death."

Small tears came to the broken man's eyes, "Oh, Jenny. I've failed." He said, and Ducky could only imagine the pain that this father was feeling.

But Ducky corrected him, "No, Jethro, you haven't failed." The agent looked up at him, "You will fail if you do nothing. So don't do nothing."


	30. Confrontation

Gibbs got off the elevator from autopsy, and looked to find Tony and McGee staring at him walking up. He grabbed his car keys from his desk, and asked, "Where's Ziva?"

Tony was the first to talk, as always, and said, "She took Kyrie to the car." And he, of course, continued, concern in his voice, "Is she going to be ok? She looked really sick."

Gibbs didn't say anything , mostly because he had no words to reason through it in his mind, much less explain it to Tony. Instead, he threw Tony the keys to the squad cars, and said, "You're in charge of the investigation. Call me if you need anything."

Tony's face froze in surprise, and it was still that way when Gibbs got on the elevator.

The doors closed, and he tried to steel himself for the fight that was coming. And if it was anything like some of the fights between Jenny and Gibbs, he knew he was in for a long day. But this was different – his winning meant saving Kyrie – his daughter – and that was the most important person in his life right now. So right before the elevator doors opened, he vowed that he would help his daughter no matter what it cost him – nothing else was as important.

The doors flew open to find Ziva waiting in the parking garage – Kyrie in the passenger seat of his car.

"What did Ducky say?" Was her first question. Her eyes darted while she tried to read his face. He could see concern all throughout her body – she was tense all over, she was wringing her hands, and she couldn't stand still.

Gibbs took a minute, trying to figure out how to word it. When nothing came to him, he just looked at her, and said, "I need to get her home. Go talk to Ducky."

He walked past her, but she grabbed his arm, an icy grip. He turned, and her face shot him a look that would wake the dead. "Tell me." Her dark eyes daring him to try and walk away again. _She is protective of Kyrie. She's just trying to help._

He turned back, so he was giving her his undivided attention. He wasn't blowing her off, he just couldn't tell someone – maybe it made it too real.

"Drugs." He said, and her face recoiled in horror. Her eyes flew to the girl slouched in the car, and back to him.

"What?" She said, "Kyrie?" Disbelief followed. "She wouldn't do it."

Gibbs waited for her mind to catch up with her, before he said, "I have to take her home, Ziva. Go talk to Ducky about the specifics."

She opened her mouth to argue, but he interrupted, "I am going to need you, Ziva. But right now, I need to be there for Kyrie."

She agreed, and turned towards the elevator.

Gibbs watched as the doors began to close and when she thought that the elevator was closed enough, he could see a small tear on her cheek. But he would never let her know he had seen her cry. _Oh, Jenny – we are trying._ He thought, getting into the car.

"About time." Kyrie whined, not even looking at him but staring out the window.

He didn't say anything. He didn't trust himself yet. He was too conflicted. The drive home was quiet, Kyrie ignoring him gave him time to think.

Anger – he was angry with her for doing this. Doing it to herself – she knew better. Her mother had most definitely talked about drugs, or maybe they hadn't. Kyrie was a smart kid who could weigh consequences before doing something. Doing it to the people who cared about her – she was hurting all those people around her. The drugs having taken over how she talked to people.

He felt betrayed. He had trusted her, that she would do the right thing. She had betrayed that trust, doing things behind his back. She lied about being in school, about being sick.

He felt like a failure. Jenny had trusted her daughter to him – and he was failing. There was not an easier way to put it. His daughter was addicted to drugs, and only after coming to live with him. She had been such a good girl before.

And, most importantly, he felt so out of his comfort zone. Sure, he had talked to druggies – he had interrogated them and told them to their face that they were failures in life and if they didn't change their life, they were going to ruin their life, and the lives of those around them. But that was someone else's child – how could he look at her without caving into tears at what she was becoming – how was he going to lay down the law?

Well, he had to do what he had to do.

They pulled into the driveway. Kyrie unbuckled and went to open her door, but Gibbs grabbed her arm. Her head turned quickly towards him, a disrespectful comment on her tongue, but he caught her before she could even open her mouth. "You and I are going to have a chat, young lady."

Her eyes flamed up, the green color jumping at him. Her lips pursed and her nose flared, but she didn't say anything. He got out of the car, and she walked in behind him.

He turned, but she walked past him, her head held high. She got to the steps before he said. "How long, Kyrie?"

She turned, her pale face full of questions. He asked again, "How long have you been doing drugs?"

He could see himself mirrored in her gaze and she didn't break her concentration, the look full of hate fully on her face as she made eye contact with him, and she said, "It's none of your business."

"I asked you a question. It's sure as hell my business. I'm your father." He said, his voice beginning to escalate.

The stone face. Only her mouth moved, "You're not my father."

She turned to walk away. And the heated conversation began between the two of them, more alike then they both thought. Short and sweet flashes of conversation flew through the air.

"Answer my question. How long?"

"Two days."

"Don't you lie to me, Kyrie."

"I can do whatever I want to."

"You're killing yourself, don't you see?"

She paused before answering, pausing for effect, he later realized. "I see."

And she walked up the stairs, and he followed her. "Where did you get the drugs?"

She slammed the door to her bedroom, expecting to shut him out, but he had his foot in, and the door just bounced open to expose a mess.

The floor was covered in trash and clothes, there was no light in the room because he saw that there was black paper taped to cover the window. Amid the chaos of clutter, Gibbs saw by her bed – lighters. Pill bottles. Foil.

His eyes flew to her face, completely void of any fear or anger. She just stood there. Looking at him.

"Get out." She said, a quietness that tried to seek control of the situation. When he didn't move, she slammed the door, right on his foot, and threw herself onto her bed.

"I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

She sat up, and said, "There's nothing to talk about. I miss my mom. I made a mistake – but I'm going to stop."

Her face was so convincing, that he almost believed her. He thought she believed her. But the scene before him reminded him of all the kids he had seen turn to crime because their addiction hadn't been dealt with when they were kids. They had probably said the same things to their parents – that they were going to change. All with no intention of doing that. Well, that wasn't going to happen with his daughter. Not if he could help it.


	31. Consciousness

She took deep breaths. Deep breaths. The air filled her lungs, her chest heaving as her body took in the oxygen that every fiber of her being needed. Her eyes began to adjust to the room around her, and she pushed up to sit up from off the cold hard floor – but her head started swimming in the unconsciousness that pulled at the back of her mind. She turned, so she was laying on her back, letting her body just adjust to being conscious.

The room around her looked to be made completely of cinder blocks. No windows. A lightbulb hung in the middle of the room, but there was no other source of light. The only thing that changed the pattern of the cinderblocks that surrounded her was the door – stone door. No handle, on this side, she deduced. No light filtered in underneath the door crack. The floor was concrete, a dull gray. But there were a few spots on the floor around her body.

Her body was covered with only a hospital gown – which barely covered her torso and panties – her cold legs bare against the cold floor. Arms bare from the sleeves down, she saw a few bruises, and her hands were full of cuts and bruises.

Finally able to sit up, she leaned against the wall. She began to remember from the beginning what had happened. The old diner – they had come in, and she remembered firing, killing most of them with the first few bullets. But they had shot her too. Her hands immediately went to her abdomen, where she remembered the pain had been – she felt no pain as she felt her stomach – nothing. She thought back, where she had been lying on the ground in the café – she remembered faces – so many faces. And the blood – there had been so much blood.

Then she remembered the darkness – she remembered not being able to move, the darkness smothering her.

And the water – not being able to breathe. The hands pushing her under the water – pulling her hair – her breath.

Her hands went immediately to her hair, and it was still damp. _It hasn't been that long,_ she shuddered. The faces of the men came to her mind, but nothing more than faces that evoked fear in her heart, and she started to have trouble breathing again – like as if she was under the water again. _Calm down._ She forced her body. _You have to figure out a way out of here. Before._

She heard footsteps. _They're back._


	32. Leaving

Kyrie said, "I promise. It was a mistake. It's over."

And she thought that she really meant it – but she wasn't sure. She didn't know if she could trust herself.

But she tried to convince him.

He just stared at her with those blue eyes of his that seemed to see right through everything she was. A determined look on his face, he was standing in her room. But he just looked at her.

"I can stop. I promise." She tried again.

He spoke. "I don't think you can." His grey hair was still in place, as always. Nothing seemed to faze him. His voice was so simple in her ears.

Her heart began to race – and her eyes flew to the pills in her hands, and clenched them tight, so he couldn't see them. _He is onto you._ She thought.

He just shook his head. "Kyrie, this is more than you can handle."

She didn't say anything. She just sat down on her bed. Head in her hands.

And he left. He shut the door. And walked down the stairs. And her first thought?

 _Just a few more._ She grabbed the powder bag that was taped to the underside of her bed – pulling a lighter from under her pillow, and the foil was soon full of the powder – and she wanted to forget everything that had just happened.

The door flew open – causing her to spill everything.

And without saying anything, Gibbs started grabbing clothes off the ground, stuffing them into a duffle bag that he was carrying. Anger was evident just in the fact of how hard he was shoving everything into the bag.

"What are you doing?" She asked, annoyance and confusion pulling at her mind.

He didn't stop while he said, "You're going away."

 _He's sending me away?_ Her heart started to pound against her chest.

"You're giving up that easily?" She angrily asked, slight sarcasm in her voice. She didn't want him to think…

Without looking up, he just said, "Nope. I'm winning." With the bag full of who knew what, he stood up to face her again.

She folded her arms in front of her. "What the hell does that mean?" She yelled as he started to walk out of the room. When he didn't turn around, she followed him to her door.

He walked down the stairs, and turned around. "Get in the car, Kyrie."

Now she was a bit scared. Where was he going to take her? "I'm not getting in there until you tell me where we're going."

He just walked out the door, and she followed to the doorway, and watched him throw her bag into the backseat. He turned around, and said, "Now. Let's go."

She just shook her head, refusing and turned to walk back to her room. "You can't make me do anything." She said.

Suddenly, she felt hands grab her arm. He spun her around, so she was facing him. His lips pulled taunt, his eyes small slits in his face, the icy blue eyes staring deep into hers. He said, "You're getting in that car. Either you walk out there on your own, or I pick you up and strap you in there. Your choice."

She pulled at his hands that had wrapped around her wrists. She yelled, "Let me go. Leave me alone." She wasn't going to do anything that he wanted her to do. This was her life. He couldn't just waltz in here and take over her life. He wasn't hurting her. She wasn't afraid of him. She was just angry with him.

"Let go and I'll get in the car." She gave up. There was nothing keeping her at this house anyway – she reasoned with herself as they walked out to the car.


	33. Betrayed

He never wanted it to be like this. He had always dreamed about having a little girl. They would take trips together, go hiking in the mountains, make things together in the basement. He imagined buying her beautiful dresses, seeing her smile when she opened her Christmas presents. He wanted to cuddle with her at night, tuck her in at night. Go to her school and see all her work, go scouting for colleges with her. Watch her grow up. Watch her become a wonderful young lady.

Just like her mother.

 _This isn't how it's supposed to be._

Her mother was gone.

And so was she.

She stood on the stairs of the four story building. He had chosen a top notch facility that was guaranteed to take care of their patients. There were three people standing with her on the steps, there to make sure she was completely taken care of.

He hated what he had to do.

He took one last look at his daughter. At the girl that she had become.

Her eyes, surrounded by dark circles, were full of tears. The tears streamed down her cheeks, rolling faster until they dripped off of her chin. Red hair flew across her face in the wind, a few strands sticking to her wet cheeks. Her hands trembled, fingers opening and closing into fists while he guessed her brain was trying to figure out what to do.

"You can't just leave me here." Were the words that flew to his ears, as he was looking at her. It wasn't a statement of fact. It wasn't a whine. It was only a plea. A last effort to convince him to listen to the words nagging his mind.

He tried to answer. But his voice caught in his throat.

So he just looked past her, to the caregiver who stood behind her. The man nodded, signaling that it was time that Gibbs took his leave.

The only thing that he could say to her – the only thing that made any sense – the one thing he was sure of. "I love you." _That's the only reason I'm doing this – that's the only reason I'm leaving you. Because you're better off here._ But he couldn't bring himself to say that.

And with that he turned to walk away. To leave her alone here. He got halfway down the steps, when he heard her start to scream. Her voice was no longer pleading, because she knew that nothing would change his decision. She wasn't screaming out of fear. The angry words flew like a sharp knife to his heart.

"She was right about you." He knew exactly who she was talking about. _Jenny._ He turned around to find her pulling at the guards who held her back, she looked like a caged animal, her face full of rage and hate. She then stopped screaming, and whispered in a voice that sent chills up his spine. "I wish you had died instead of her. I hate you."

He could only do one thing, his heart already broken. He got in his car, and drove away. And he pulled around the corner, leaving her behind. He pulled the car to the side of the rode, put the car in park. And he cried. He cried gut wrenching sobs. And he didn't leave that corner for a long while.


	34. Fighting Back

The lock on the outside of the door clicked.

She scooted farther away from the door, her back now against the cold corner of the room. The light in the middle of the room swung as the door crashed open. Two figures walked in. Clothed in black. Their boots were steel-toed combat boots – laced up around their pants. In the taller man's hands, he carried an assault rifle – she knew she should know what it was called, but her attention flew to the shorter but more muscular man – in his hands he held some kind of pipe – it gleamed in the light, the metal bouncing up and down as he tapped it against his other hand. Their faces were covered with beards – the taller man stood by the door, allowing the other man, whom she assumed was the leader, to get close to her. As he walked a few short steps towards her, her eyes found his face. The dark hair that covered his cheeks seemed to create a mask around him, but she could see his lips were sneered into a wicked look. And his dark eyes seemed like murky water – she couldn't tell what was lying beneath the surface.

He spoke – his voice accented with Arabic. "Scared, darling?" He leaned down, towering above her. She could smell the cigarette he had just finished smoking, he was so close.

And that's when she made her move.

She used whatever energy she had left to throw her knee up into his groin, causing him to drop his pipe right beside her. Her hands circled around the heavy metal pipe, and she put all her weight into her swing into his forehead. Dead weight fell to the ground before her, where she now stood above the crumpled man.

She turned to find the other man had already made it across the room.

And the telltale feel of the cold metal against her forehead told her that she was finished. And the cold metal muzzle of the gun moved from her head, only to find the butt jamming into the pit of her stomach.

She doubled over in pain, and fell to the ground.


	35. The Case

"What do we have?" McGee asked, looking over the room where the other two members of the team were lounging around. Tony had his feet up on the desk, leaning back in his chair. He had a paper airplane in his hand, but had been holding it for a long while, just looking at it. Across the divide, Ziva just stared off into space, like she was miles and miles away.

Tony just looked at him, and said, "We have a boss who just left. And a Ziva who needs some serious medication to make her a bit more happy."

"I meant about the case." Tim said. When no one said anything, he decided to start. He put the information up on the plasma. "The dead petty officer was killed with the gun that belongs to a known terrorist, Saleem Abdul." He put both of their pictures side by side. "I traced the number that Abdul used to contact Petty Officer Stanton, and found the location to be just outside of LA, about forty miles."

Ziva stood up and walked over to stand in front of screen. Tim, glad to see she was paying attention, and that maybe he was getting the team together, he continued, "I found the place that the burn phone was bought, and traced other phones bought at the same time of purchase. All the numbers are connected…"

"Show me the location that you traced the terrorist's phone to." Ziva interrupted. But that was how they worked. Her tone was very short, like she was expecting something big to come out of the address. He pulled it up.

And now Tony was standing by Ziva.

"It's an abandoned diner out in the desert." Tim said, and just as he said that he realized why Ziva was interested in it.

Tony said, "It's the same place that we found Director Shepard."

Tony and Ziva looked at each other. Then they both rushed to their individual desks, Ziva pulling up the map on her computer. Tony grabbed his phone and said, "McGeek, trace all the other phones bought at the time of the purchase."

Tim hit a few buttons, and a map of the world popped up on the screen. "Already done. Traced them all to one GPS location where they all made calls in the last four months."

Ziva looked, and said, "Somalia?"

Tim nodded. "Right off the coast."

"Is there any other electronic activity in that general area?" Tony asked.

Tim started snooping around, looking for any trace of technology in that area other than the phones he had traced. "There's something, like a security camera or a surveillance tape."

Ziva asked, "There's no way you could hack into that and get some…"

Tim finished, "Pictures or videos of the people there? Done." He said, pulling up video feeds on the plasma. The smile on his face was wiped away within seconds as they soon recognized the person who was on all of the feeds.

"Tony, call the Boss." Ziva said, her face pale and voice hoarse.


	36. Chapter 36

Complete Authors Note here for this chapter!

Need some reviews for another update! So many readers - I love to hear from you! Let me know how it's going - and please let me know how I can respond to you if you don't have an account - some of you have been so helpful, but don't have account so I can't message you! PLEASE REVIEW


	37. Vance's Story

"Let's both agree to one thing." Gibbs said as he threw open the door of the Director's office.

Vance looked up from his computer, startled, both by the door flying open and Gibb's horrible tone of voice.

Gibbs threw a file onto Vance's desk. "Let's not lie to each other."

Vance just looked at him, and when Gibbs gestured to the file, he opened it.

Gibbs started his rant. "This is footage that we located connected to the death of a petty officer."

Vance's eyes got big as he saw the pictures. But Gibbs continued. "Explain some things to me, Director. First, explain how a terrorist's cell phone made a call from the café that you visited in LA? Explain how that known terrorist's phone number called your phone. Minutes after you arrived there to investigate?"

Gibbs gave him no room to talk. And his voice began to get louder. "Explain how this footage was taken only a few days ago connected to that terrorist's phone." And Gibbs grabbed one of the photos they had found on the footage of the videos. And he held it inches away from Vance's face, and yelled. "Footage of Jenny Shepard. Who died months ago."

The room was quiet. Vance just stared at the photo. And Gibbs just watched the man's face go from a fear of the unknown, not knowing why Gibbs was angry, to fear of the man standing in front of him.

Now it was Vance's turn.

"That was a classified file, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs just pounded his fist on the oak desk. "Bullshit. Classified my ass. Answer my question."

And he did.

"As you know, former Director Shepard made a few enemies in the other agencies when she was fishing for information and getting too personally involved in her cases. Especially In the CIA with the whole situation in the Benoit case. When the CIA found that she hadn't finished her job with Svetlana, they decided to get even." Vance waited, sure that Gibbs wouldn't believe what sounded so childish – between two federal agencies. But when nothing was interrupted, he continued, "They alerted Svetlana to her whereabouts, and thought that they would take care of the CIA's problem for them. But they hadn't expected a terrorist from Somalia to have infiltrated Svetlana's group. When they went into the diner, he used his power to shoot her with a tranquilizer."

Gibbs looked on with questioning eyes. And he warned, "You'd better be telling me the truth."

Vance just continued, "But they hadn't taken Franks into the equation. They expected to go in, shoot her, and take her with them. But she put up one hell of a fight. And Mike put an end to any ideas of them living through it. But right before he was killed, the one who led the attack, who they later found was a terrorist inflitrator, shot her with a tranquilizer, which caused her heart to barely pump, keeping her alive, but dead to the person who didn't know.

Gibbs wasn't buying it. "If they wanted her dead, why would they shoot her with a tranquilizer? That makes no sense."

Vance continued. "Mike thought she was dead. Dinozzo thought she was dead. And they called me. But when I got there a few hours later, the teams had bagged the bodies. When the bodies got to their autopsy, Ducky autopsied all but the one they figured to be Jenny's. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it."

"So what you told me about the whole shoot out – that was a lie?"

Vance just nodded. And Gibbs asked again, "Ducky couldn't bring himself to do it? Since when is Ducky that sensitive."

This time Vance had the upper hand on the agent. "Ducky was quite close to her. Like a father, Gibbs. He came to me privately and said that he couldn't do it. So we sent it to the FBI's autopsy. But when the body arrived there, we soon discovered that the body had been switched." He took a deep breath, and Gibbs was about to come unglued. But Vance finished before Gibbs could shoot him. "I was following orders. I was told that as long as we didn't know, we would classify her as dead – and then with the stunt you and Franks pulled – there was nothing else to do. It was an interagency thing – and I couldn't change anything."

Gibbs couldn't say anything. Not knowing that she had been out there all this time. All alone. And suddenly, anger couldn't even begin to describe the feelings he was feeling.

And He was again in the face of the director. "You did what you were told - and didn't say anything – all to get your ass into that Director chair." He screamed.

Vance was on his feet, ready to fight back, "I was just following orders. That's my job. And yours."

Gibbs walked over to the door, and turned to say, "I'm going after her. And then I'm coming after you."

And he stormed out, determined to get to Jenny, even if it killed him.


	38. Jenny's Demise

A/N - This chapter is rated M for mature themes - please don't read if easily offended! Thanks, and review please! I cried while writing this scene - give me some feedback on how you felt!

Chains rattled as she moved.

Two hooks hung from the ceiling, chains hanging down, attached to the cuffs that dug into her wrists, causing the blood to trail down her arms that were hanging above her head. Her head hung down in defeat to her chest, and her legs stood as much as they could, trying to alleviate putting all the weight on her chained arms.

She could feel her lips were swollen, torn open, and bleeding. She looked down, where only the hospital gown covered her body – and the gown was covered in blood, and she watched as some dripped from what she thought was a cut on her head onto the ground by her feet.

The man was here again. _Or maybe he hadn't left._ Jenny thought. _I might have just passed out_. Which was the only time she found respite from the hell she was living in. She couldn't bring her head to look at the man, but she could see him moving closer to her body, and she shrunk back in fear. But she could only swing the chains so far, before he reached her.

She felt his sweaty hand grab her cheek, and yank it so she was looking into his dark, terrible eyes. His breath smelled so foul, and she twisted to pull away from him. His lips sneered into a manic smile. And before she could brace herself, his other hand pummeled into her stomach, sending pains shuddering up and down her spine. Even through the pain, her training kicked in. _They aren't hitting you with closed fists, but open handed, so they don't cause any internal bleeding. They need you alive._ At least she kept telling herself that.

"Now. Tell me." He said, and spat on her face that he was still holding in his hand.

She could feel the blood that had pooled on the inside of her cheek move in her mouth as she replied, "I don't know." And she really didn't know. _I don't know where my father is. I was sure he was dead. But then…_

Anger became evident in his eyes, and fear again quaked in her stomach. He let her head drop back to her chest. "And this might help you remember."

And with that, she felt his gross hands run up her thigh, under the hospital gown. She pulled her legs back, but he grabbed her around the waist to hold her in place. "You're not getting away from this." He whispered, his mouth only a few inches away from her ear.

She whimpered, knowing that there was nothing she could do to stop what was about to happen. He began to kiss her neck, biting a little bit, causing her to wriggle away from him, but he pulled her back, throwing her up against the wall that was directly behind the chains. Pulling down her panties was when she screamed, "Please…" And he just laughed, a wicked laugh.


	39. Chapter 39

The world suddenly ceased. Ceased to be. Ceased to be a timeline. Ceased to be meaningful. Ceased to hold meaning. Her world was no longer something she lived, but rather something she endured. She went from being awake, measuring her time of staring at the stone walls to only remembering images in her mind. Images that varied from the torturous experiences to the wonderful images from the first time holding her baby girl. Pictures of her baby learning to walk and pictures of her blood splattering on the floor. Her body felt nothing. Feeling like her spirit left her body – she no longer cared of the physical pain she thought she might be experiencing.


	40. Chapter 40

"Yes, I'm here to see Special Agent Gibbs." Kyrie told the security guard at the door of the agency. She mechanically went through the motions of getting scanned, a name badge pinned to her sweatshirt, and stepped into the elevator with the security escort; but her mind was not on the process of gaining admittance to the bullpen.

She pulled the long sleeves of her old sweatshirt down over her hands, using her nails to pick at the tattered material. Her teeth did the same nervous motion on her lip as she watched the doors to the elevator close and the numbers began to add up on the floor count. Her eyes ran from the numbers at the top of the elevator down to her ratty sneakers and jeans that were full of holes to the man in a suit and tie standing next to her.

It had been 90 days in rehab.

90 days clean. Days full of detoxing, counseling, nightmares, fevers. Days spent alternating between vomiting and sleeping. Days that seemed to drag by without hope that the next hour would pass while she was still alive. Cold sweats, high fevers… these last days had been full of excruciating things.

And as the elevator dinged to signal their arrival on the bullpen floor, she wondered if day 91 would be worse.


	41. Chapter 41

Gibbs threw the paperwork violently on the desk, which knocked his half-full coffee cup onto the floor. "Do we have anything new since last week?" He growled, even though he knew that the team had been working just as hard as he had, round the clock with only tiny naps here and there throughout the time.

McGee squeaked, "I'm still working on acquiring permission to infiltrate the cell."

They had been trying for a week.

Tony just looked at him before answering, "I've called in almost every favor I have to attempt to allocate funds and personnel needed for an OP." The sadness in his eyes began to show through as defeat ate through the façade of bravery.

Waiting for Ziva, Gibbs looked over to the most disheveled member of the team. Her brown hair, pulled back into a bun, drew her face tighter, the dark circles under her eyes showing exhaustion. She just stared at her computer.

They waited patiently, no one having the strength to rush her.

"I think I found something."

And suddenly everyone stood up, crowding around the screen in the middle of the room. She pushed a button, and the scenes from the torture chamber filled the screen before them. "I've been scouring these video feeds." As they all had been, must to their horror and sadness. "We can't get a warrant without the Director's authorization, because of the international relations with terrorists." She said, something she knew everyone knew. "But what if one of the men in the video feed…" she zoomed into the feed, close up to the man right next to Jenny's battered body. "Was wanted by the FBI."

Gibbs had his phone out, began dialing Fornell, when Ziva said, "He's already on his way."

And when the bell to the elevator rang, they all turned around, expecting a balding federal agent.

Suddenly the tunnel vision hit Gibbs.

 _It's Kyrie._ His heart leapt. Her before long red tresses, now hung in beautifully natural curls at her shoulders, highlighting her now glowing complexion, a start contrast to the last time he had seen her pale, sickly skin. Her cheeks didn't look so taunt, as they had before; Her clothes were baggy around her tiny frame, but even in her baggy clothes, he could tell she was holding herself with a different confidence. Something that had all but disappeared before. Her hand brushed a stray piece of hair out of her jade eyes, revealing her blatant stare right into his eyes.

Somehow, without thinking, he found himself staring down into her eyes, not sure of how he had walked over to her. She looked up at him, her freckles outlining her still deep stare. Suddenly her brow furrowed, and he saw a flash of lightening cross her eyes. But before he could react to the change, she slapped him across his left cheek, his neck snapping to the right.

Shocked could not begin to cover the reaction he had as he rubbed his cheek. Gasps from behind him signaled that he wasn't the only one blown away. He didn't have to wonder for long, her voice barely a whisper, "You left me there."

And then. Silence.

And his heart ripped in two as he watched her turn and start to walk back to the elevator. Ziva ran after her, and Tony followed her. But it all happened in a blur, not because of how his face was stinging. Not even because he was shocked that she blamed him.

But because she sounded just like her mother.

And her mother had the right to say the same thing.


	42. Chapter 42

"Kyrie!" Ziva exclaimed, unable to comprehend what had just happened, and she grabbed the girl's arm, wanting her to turn around so she could talk to her. Ziva had been so surprised to see her, and see her looking so much better than the last time she had seen her so drugged and sick. Kyrie tried to pull her arm away from her, refusing to turn and look at her.

But Ziva just couldn't let that happen. She pulled the girl around, grabbed her shoulders, holding her still so Kyrie had to look into her eyes. Her face showed no signs of remorse for her violent actions against her father. Ziva actually noticed something that had been missing from the beautiful girl's face before rehab – spark – life.

Holding the girl in her arms again, having missed the special child for the last three months – Ziva felt something running down her cheek. The stress from the past week, watching torture and horror – it was getting to her. And now, seeing that the child that had worried her so much, with her sickly body and torn soul – seeing her there was enough to make a trained assassin cry. And then, as she saw the power and spark for life flickering on the face of this young woman – Ziva couldn't help herself.

Concern flooded Kyrie's eyes, and Ziva just pulled the girl against her shoulder, and said, "I'm so glad you're ok." They Just stood there for a few minutes. Each one relieved that the other was there.

And then.

Kyrie gasped. And pulled away.

And ran into the middle of the bullpen.

And stared at the screen.

And then.

She screamed.

Ok guys! I'm back! Sorry for the break in the updating. And I can't promise that through the rest of this week that there will be steady updates - but once I finish this week, the last week of college, then I shall probably updayte more! I would love some encouragement or ideas that you might have - please review! Let me know how this might shape to be?


	43. Chapter 43

_Her mother? It can't be? She's dead. What is going on?_ Her mind tried to grasp what she was seeing. _The blood?_ The hair was matted across the face of the person chained to the wall on the video. Bruises and cuts lined the bare arms that were stretched by the chains. Her legs, also torn by an unseen weapon, hung defeated. Her head hung down onto her chest.

Kyrie's mind raced. _What is she doing? What happened to her? That can't be her? What happened?_ But there was no doubt that it was her mother – she just knew. There was not a disfiguring figure that could hide her subconscious from recognizing the only thing she thought she could never replace. She heard someone screaming.

Until she realized it was herself. But she couldn't stop. Like a wild animal, she lunged at the screen, clawing at the image, then beating her fists on the plasma. _I have to get to her_ was the only thought she had in her mind. She felt arms surround her waist, pulling her away from the tortured form on the screen in front of her.

Angry voices shouted somewhere in the distance, and she knew it really was just feet behind her, but she could hear nothing over the screams echoing through her throat.

"McGee! Take it down."

The image disappeared.

"Gibbs, do something." Ziva shouted.

And now it was her turn. She started yelling, "Put it back up there! Put it back!" Her throat raked with pain as she screamed from so down deep in her soul she didn't know what to do. "Where is she?"

No one answered her. But she fought violently against the arms that had pulled her away from the screen. Clawing against the tough skin, she could feel the flesh tear against her fingernails; but they wouldn't move. Still screaming and crying, both indistinguishable from the other, she wrenched around to face the person who was still holding her tight.

 _Gibbs._

"Let me go!" She screamed, turning her violence toward the one who so far had ruined her life the most. Suddenly her body became a weapon. Her feet kicked, making contact with both of his shins. Her hands reached for his face, all of her intent to pull his eyes out. He grabbed her arms not allowing her to reach his face, but she just pummeled her fists against his chest. All the while screaming obscenities at him. "What happened? Where is she? You bastard, this is your fault. Where is she?"

She didn't know how long that went on, but no one interfered. No one tried to pull her off of him. No one stepped in to help him control the crazy child in the room. No. They just stared at her. Time passed, and she tired out, her fists slowing down in their rampage against him.

And as soon as she had started

She stopped.

He was holding her tight.

And she angrily looked into his eyes.

And he said the first words since she had gotten there. "I'm sorry."

Her body was exhausted, but her mind only held one picture. And her raw voice whispered, "I want my mother." And her body just gave up. And she collapsed into his arms, her face buried deep into his sport-coat. And her cries just shook her body.


	44. Chapter 44

Something told her that she was almost gone. She had been in the same position for much too long. She had long before lost feeling in her extremities. And her mouth, so dry, no longer ached for water. The blood had dried. But the stain on the floor told her she had lost too much. She blocked out the horrendous deeds that they had done to her. She couldn't lift her head, even when she heard what she thought to be the door in the background open.

She heard words floating around, the room moved a little – they must have hit her causing the chains that held her body to swing.

Her mind was in another place.

A place with so much more light. A place that seemed the pain would forever go away. A place that everyone said was the place to be. It seemed so warm. If only she could let go of the concrete walls with blood spatter – if only she could get away from the metal cutting into her wrists.

 _Let go, Jen._ Her mind told herself. _Jethro will take care of her. She knows you love her._ Her daughter's angelic face shown thorugh her memories, from the baby, to the toddler falling on her butt, to the first day of school, to the first dance, to the last time she had seen her wonderful daughter. And she thought of Jethro taking care of her wonderful daughter. _Take care of her, Jethro_. She said, her body finally caving to the elements.

"Jen. Hold on Jen. I'm getting you out of here."

Her mind was playing tricks on her.

 _Jethro, worry about by baby._ She thought.

Something rattled.

 _Kyrie needs you, Jethro. I trust you._ She thought.

Until she felt something in her mind.

And something on her body.

Hands.

His hands.

She opened her eyes. And stared into the ocean of his eyes.

The world came back into focus, although muffled. Shots rang out in the background. She felt her body start to fall to the ground as the chains that had held were released from her wrists. But strong arms reached around her back, and he picked her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, until they tired out, and she just let him hold her. Laying her head against his shoulder, she asked, but because her voice was so weak, it came out a whisper, "You came for me?"

And the last thing she heard was, "I made a promise."

 _Please please please review_


	45. Chapter 45

"Mr. Gibbs?"

Gibbs jumped from his uncomfortable position in the waiting room chair as he heard his name. He looked up to see a nurse motioning him to follow him. Ignoring the pain in his neck from falling asleep in the wrong position, he walked behind the nurse down the antiseptic scented hallway, passing rooms. Not feeling like himself at all, he didn't want to ask the question that was nagging at the back of his mind.

The nurse stopped in front of a room, and told him, "Go in, she was asking for you."

He took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for what he knew was going to be one of the hardest things he would have to do. His mind raced back hours.

 _They had stormed the compound with only the agents that offered to give their time to go in. Dinnozo, McGee. Ziva. Fornell. And about seven of his agents. They had gone in the middle of the night. The compound was easy to navigate after having studied the video footage for hours._

 _He would never forget his horror as he entered her room. The small concrete room faded from his mind as he point blank shot the man standing in front of her in the knee. Then the stomach. Then the shoulder. Then the finger. Then the head. All in a matter of 30 seconds._

 _She didn't even look up at the sounds of multiple gunshots. He reached over, felt her neck, to make sure there was a pulse. Barely._

 _"Jen. Hold on Jen. I'm getting you out of here." He said, attempting to hide his frantic fear that they might have been too late._

 _Her tiny body hung from chains. The chains wrapped around her wrists, where skin had grown over the cuts and chain links, attaching themselves to her body. Hearing the communication in his earwig, he knew he had to hurry. Pulling out the bolt cutters he had brought for this very occasion, he cut the links just above her wrists, not wanting to cause more damage to the already fading body. Wrapping her into his arms, he easily picked her up, her legs dangling like twigs from his arms._

 _Her eyes, bloodshot, bloody, black and blue, met his, and he looked away, not wanting her to see how scared he was for her. Her red hair, matted with blood, clung to gashes, cuts, and incisions all around her face and neck. Her cheekbones pulled in from starvation, her lips swollen and dry cracked as she tried to talk. He wished that she wouldn't, because he couldn't bear to think that saying something might hurt her. "You came for me?"_

"You came for me?" were the words that pulled him out of his reverie to the present.

He looked at the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. Stiches dotted across her face, above her eyebrow, right on her chin, on her left cheek, one that extended from her ear to behind her neck, her green eyes just watched him. Bruises around her neck showed choke marks. A set of stiches ran down past the neckline of her hospital gown. Her arms, with bruises in the shape of hands, looked so thin and fragile, especially with the gauze bandages around both her wrists from the chains. An I.V. ran in the top of her right hand, with what he supposed to be fluids and antibiotics into her malnourished body. His eyes flew back to her beautiful eyes, and he knew she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He moved to her, and said tenderly, "I made a promise."

She whispered, "I have to talk really quietly; they said my voice will need some time to recover from the lack of water and…" she stared off into space, and he knew she was thinking of all the other things she would have to recover from that no medication could help. After a minute, she looked back at him and she asked, "How is Kyrie?"

He hesitated.

And Jen, being the observant one, frantically asked, "Where is she, Jethro? Is she ok? They didn't get her, did they?"

He sat on the side of the bed, and said, "Shhhh… she's with Ziva. She's safe."

Her breathing started going back to normal, but she said, "Why did you hesitate?"

"She was just really worried about you." He said, which was true.

Staring deep into his eyes, she asked, "Why did you tell her?" He knew that was going to come up. He opened his mouth to answer, but, like the bossy Jen that she was, she interrupted him, "What if I hadn't made it? She would have been devastated again?"

He let the silence sit between them. He wanted to tell her everything. Tell her about how much he had failed their daughter. Tell her how much he hated the way that he hadn't seen the signs. Tell her how much that he loved the teenager. Tell her that the girl she had left to his care had been through hell and back and when she had gotten back, the sight of her mother on that video screen had sent her right back into the pit. But. All he could say was, "She's a smart girl."

And, for some reason, a small smile graced her face, and she said, "Yes, she is." Then she asked, "How long has it been?"

"Four months."

She just stared off into space.

And he just stared at her beautiful face, giving her the time needed to process, and giving himself the permission to take in her wonderful beauty.

She broke the silence. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about her." She searched his face, her eyes trying to read his.

But he had nothing in that area. Because he couldn't bear to hurt her anymore today.

"Things have changed." He said, addressing the question without telling her how he felt about it. He continued, "She took your death very hard, as did all of us." Remembering back to the innocent girl right after the funeral the first day he had met her, he paused, then said, "But she took it especially hard."

Jen's face took on something that he had never seen before. Something that had never been part of their relationship before. Her maternal face. "Will you bring her to see me?" She whispered.

Now it was his turn to stare off into the distance, thinking, wondering, wanting to do the right thing. "Jen," he started, and watched her eyes get wide with something that he thought was between fear and anger, "I think you should rest for the rest of the night. Give yourself some time to rest." She started to interrupt him, but he said, "She's safe. I just want to do what's best for her."

That seemed to calm her down, and he was thankful that she could rest more peacefully. He stood to go, and all peace ran from her eyes, a frantic, scared look flew to her face.

"Jen, what's the matter?" He asked, concerned.

She could barely breathe, and she was breathless as she asked, "Please don't leave me alone, Jethro." He green eyes penetrated his soul. Her hands curled into fists, like she was trying to hold onto something that was slipping out of his grasp. "I don't want to be alone. Just stay with me until I fall asleep?"

Ignoring the stiffness in his back, he sat back down on the edge of her bed, and reached out and held her hand, letting it relax in his grip. And he said, "Just lay back, Jen. I'll be here."


	46. Author note

So guys. Here's the deal. I have like five more chapters written...

Review these last few chapters for more chapters...


	47. Chapter 47

"Ducky?" Ziva whispered as she peeked her head into the dark autopsy room. "Ducky, are you here?"

She about jumped out of her skin when the medical examiner's face popped right around the corner only a few inches away from her face. "Shh… Ziva, she's sleeping."

Backing out, gesturing for him to come out into the well-lit hallway, she tried to calm her pounding heart, still startled from the face popping out of autopsy.

"How is she, Ducky?" She asked after the doors automatically shut behind him.

"She's finally sleeping, but only after I gave her a few sedatives." He answered, his eyes looking older after the last few days had passed. "I don't know how she will be when she wakes up, Ziva. Such trauma. The human body can only handle so much, you know. Well, I should know. I see the bodies that have taken just a little bit more trauma than they can handle." He changed the subject, when thinking about that, and asked, "How's Jennifer?"

Now it was Ziva's turn to be unsure about her report to him. "Gibbs was with her for the night, after he got his wound all cleaned up from the stray bullet." She paused, and, when Ducky gestured for her to continue, she said, "She was asking for Kyrie."

And then the doors to the autopsy flew open, and a wild eyed girl exclaimed, "She was asking for me?"

Ducky and Ziva had nothing to say.

They could see her start to breathe faster and faster, her legs wouldn't stand still. Ducky cast a look at Ziva that she knew to be something along the lines of "what the hell are we going to do?" before turning to the girl, and saying, "Yes, your mother was asking for you to come tomorrow morning. She needs her rest, but wants to see you tomorrow."

He was trying his best, Ziva could tell. But it wasn't working at all. Something wild was in her eyes, something that Ziva had seen once before… the same look she had on her face before she went into the wild scene in the squad room.

She started to mumble incoherently. "Need to… walking… certain to see her… she ok… make sure…"

Kyrie wasn't even acknowledging that Ziva or Ducky were there in the room. They both just watched her pace around the room. Ducky went over to her, and she pushed him away, and said, "No!" and returned to her pacing and mumbling.

Ziva and Ducky exchanged looks, and then Ziva said, "I'm going to call Gibbs. I have no idea what to do with her." Ducky nodded.

But before she could pull out her phone, Kyrie grabbed her by the shoulders, her face inches from Ziva's. "Please don't call him. Please. He's mean. He doesn't understand." Her voice sounded just like a frantic lunatic. Ziva, who was not very scared about much at all, was frightened by the sudden change in this girl.

Ducky reached for the girl's hands, to pull her and lead her away from Ziva, but she pushed him away again. But if they thought that she was acting weird, the opening of the elevator doors proved to bring out the worst in the girl.

Gibbs stood, leaning defeated against the walls of the elevator. And when he saw Kyrie, he looked up, anxiousness overtaking him.

When Kyrie saw him, she sank to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest, and started rocking back and forth. Her eyes were closed, as if trying to push the sight of her father from her mind, and she was again mumbling, "Go away. Don't hurt me. Please go away. Don't hurt me. Mom. Want. See. Please Go."

And the three adults looked at each other.

And no one knew what to do.

Until Gibbs, hit the button to go back up, not wanting to push the girl any farther than her mind could handle. And as the doors closed, Ziva heard him say, "Get her ready. Take her to see Jen."

The doors closed, taking him up and away, and Kyrie stood up, brushed herself off, and looked at Ziva in the most sane voice and mannerisms and said, "Let's go. I want to see my mom."


	48. Chapter 48

She knew she was losing it.

Emotions ran through her mind. She didn't even know that was possible. She understood that she could feel emotions. But something was wrong.

She watched fear overtake her mind at the sight of … him… and then happiness flooded over her at the thought of seeing her mother again. And horror followed that thought as blood flowed through her mind's eye at the thought of her mother…

She felt her hands beating on her own forehead. Just attempting to push those horrible images from her mind. A buzz every familiar to her before drug induced state numbed everything that happened on the outside of her body. Just hearing his voice sent her mind into a frenzy that she couldn't explain. All she saw was him leaving her… walking away… abandoned.

Then terror gripped her whole body as she stood in front of the hospital room.

She knew they were watching her.

She felt their stares into her back as she walked into the sterile room.

But one thing pulled her away from the deadly control her mind was executing over her body.

The one voice.

"Kyrie."

She was sure angels couldn't have said her name more perfectly.

The fog lifted from her eyes, and she saw her wonderful mother.

And she raced from her stance in the doorway to the bedside of her savior. Her knees hit the floor as she grasped the hand of her mother. Her body electrified at the feeling of skin on her hand. "Mum." She whispered with the only strength she had left.

"Is it really you?" She incredulously asked, her eyes searching the face she never thought she would see again. She only saw the beauty in the face. She only saw that her mother was still there.

Her hand left her mothers hand, and pressed her hand against her mother's chest, to feel her heart beating. Kyrie felt her own breath increase as her mind began to grasp the fact that her mother was really there with her. Each beat of the heart against her hand seemed to beat reality back into her mind.

Thump.

 _She's alive._

Thump.

 _I'm holding her._

Thump.

 _She was safe._

Thump.

 _I'm not dying._

Thump.

 _I'm safe._

The feeling of her mother's scarred hand bushing against her cheek pulled her back into reality. Kyrie reached up, and held her mother's hand against her face, not wanting anything to ruin this wonderful moment. All the irrational fears leaving her mind allowed her to speak more openly with her mother.

"I missed you so much, Mum."


	49. Chapter 49

"Darling, don't cry." Jenny pleaded with Kyrie. As her daughter held her mother's hand up against the soft skin of her face, Jenny could feel the tears spilling out of Kyrie's eyes. Pulling the now short- haired child close to her chest, she rocked her back and forth, not wanting to let her go ever again. Seeing that she was safe, feeling the soft hair against her fingers, pulling her child's body close to hers – she just wanted to hold her tight and never let go.

But with the sound of sniffles, Jenny asked, "Kyrie, what's wrong, baby?" She said in a sweet tone, running her fingers gently through Kyrie's hair.

The sweet British accent that greeted her ears made her heart just melt even more. "I can't believe it's you."

Smiling, Jenny leaned her head down, so her own cheek rested upon the top of Kyrie's red hair. And she whispered back lovingly, "I can't believe it's you either."

Kyrie pulled her legs up into the bed, cuddling closely into Jenny's body, being careful, Jenny could tell, making sure she was gentle as she snuggled into her mother.

Jenny didn't know how long they lay there together. But she could have done just that for the rest of her life and she would have been happy.

Kyrie was the first one to talk, still snuggled close. "You're going to be ok, aren't you, Mum?"

Smiling, she said, "Yes, darling. I'm going to be just fine." The look of relief on her child's face made her smile. And then she added, in a jesting way, "If only they would let me have some real food around here."


	50. Chapter 50

Gibbs couldn't tear his eyes away from the most touching scene he had seen in a while. Watching the two of them together made up for any amount of pain or heartache he had experienced in the last few months. Jenny's face, despite the physical bruises and scars, shone with happiness as she watched Kyrie tell a story about something. Kyrie was sitting Indian Style on the edge of the bed, using huge gestures with her hands to try and tell her mother something. He could tell that Jenny was trying not to laugh, but it wasn't long before her bottom lip twitched, then her whole face broke into a giant laugh. And Kyrie soon followed suit, their laughs echoing out to where he was standing.

"Mum, I swear he got it out of there somehow! It was huge!" Kyrie said, never taking her eyes off of her mother's face.

Gibbs watched as Jenny reached over, ruffled their daughter's hair up, and pulled her into a big hug.

"Oh, I've missed you so much." He heard Jenny say. It was only then that she looked up towards the door, and her eyes met his. "And there he is now. I'm sure you've already asked, but maybe both of us together could pull his secret about the boat out of him."

He froze, waiting for Kyrie to look up at him.

That was the reason he hadn't gone in sooner. He hadn't wanted to ruin this wonderful moment for his daughter. After the last few days, he didn't know how she would react to his presence. Especially after what Ducky said had happened down in autopsy when she had seen him.

When Jen motioned for him to come into the room, he slowly walked in. "I didn't want to interrupt."

"You're not interrupting, Jethro." He loved the way she said his name. Something he had missed so much. "Kyrie was just asking about the boat."

He smiled, and said, "Well, that's my secret. And remember I interrogate people for a living. I know all the tricks."

Jenny smiled.

Kyrie just sat up and looked at him. Her piercing eyes drilling into his own eyes. She didn't freak out. She didn't start screaming. She didn't cower like she had earlier. She just stared him down.

And this was where Jenny's face finally fell, watching what was happening between the two of them.

"Am I missing something?" She asked. When neither one would break concentration with the other, she again asked, "Did something happen?"

Gibbs opened his mouth to answer. But a voice from behind him interrupted him. "Jennifer!" The British voice echoed through the silent room, distracting but not erasing the exchange that had just happened. Jen's face lit up when she saw Ducky walk in.


	51. Ending

Dr. Mallard." Her sweet voice matched her beautiful smile that smoothed across Jenny's face. "It's so wonderful to see you again."

"No, my dear, the pleasure is all mine." He smiled back, and wandered towards her bedside. His hat in his hands, Ducky greeted both of the girls. Gibbs watched as both Jenny and Kyrie engaged in some wonderfully Britain conversation.

Following behind Ducky, the rest of the team filed into the hospital room. Jenny had a wonderful smile for each of them, welcoming them in, and making them feel more comfortable in a somewhat awkward situation. Gibbs smiled at just how diplomatic the redheaded director could be.

Tony walked in, rather slyly and carefully, his nice suit standing out against all the white sanitized hospital room. Abbey ran over to the director, throwing her arms around her neck and saying something incomprehensible because of how fast she was talking. While Abbey was going on and on, McGee sneaked into the back of the room, nodding his shy head at the director's addressing his presence.

Ziva was the last one to walk into the room. She just stood in the back with Gibbs watching the exchanges before her. Her arms were folded across her chest, assessing the situation, just as Gibbs was. Jenny's eyes sparkled just a bit more as her eyes met Ziva's. Ziva turned to him, and Gibbs could see there were tears in her dark eyes.

Somehow, Gibbs knew that all of these people would help Jenny's drive to get well. He still couldn't believe that she was alive. First the pain of losing her, as he realized just how much he would miss her. That pain. Then the pain of knowing that she had a daughter – with him – that she had never told him that they had – there had been a bit of anger. But pain when he realized just how much of his daughter's life he had missed. And the destroying pain watching his daughter suffer through grief for her mother. The failure he felt watching his daughter turn to drugs to cope with her pain. Nothing had torn him up so much as leaving her at the rehab center – feeling as if he had abandoned his little girl – knowing it was best, but knowing that she may never forgive him. And the entire ordeal of watching the love of his life tortured in front of his very eyes with no ability to stop it.

He would never forget the feeling of her body in his hands, knowing that he was going to take her to safety. Making sure she would be alright – that was his job. And he had done that. And as he watched the team crowded around this wonderful miracle – he knew that there was no such thing as perfect – especially when he was involved. But he knew that no matter what would happen – especially when everyone found out exactly what had transpired the last few months – he knew that at least his girls – no, his family – he knew they were safe. And that was what mattered.


End file.
